


Bad Things Happen on Pluto

by lemonadepluto



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Planet, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bingo, Black Eye, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Burns, Caretaking, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Food Poisoning, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Hunk (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Hyperventilation, Infection, Injury, Injury Recovery, Insomnia, Intubation, M/M, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Outer Space, Panic, Poison, Serious Injuries, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, Sick Character, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Surgery, Team as Family, Vomiting, We love Hunk in this household, Whiplash, Whump, rope burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 31,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonadepluto/pseuds/lemonadepluto
Summary: Lemonadepluto's Voltron Bad Things Happen Bingo!---“You don’t have to talk about it. Not today, not tomorrow… Just, please, don’t keep it all bottled up, and I promise - we’ll make it through. You’ll make it through. You’re still the Hunk I know and love. No matter what.”





	1. Overview

 

Hey all! Welcome to my Voltron Bad Things Happen Bingo! 

 

**Requests are open!**

I've really got no guidelines for the requests, but it might be useful to know that I'm a sucker for Shance, Heith, and Klance. I'm open to whatever you can come up with though!

(These will be more like ficlets btw, not too long, but not too short~)

 

 

**Table of Contents:**

  1. Overview - you're here! 
  2. Vehicular Accident with Lance
  3. Slowly Running Out of Air with Lance
  4. Kneecapping with Shiro
  5. Muzzled with Hunk/Keith
  6. Insomnia with Lance/Keith
  7. Degloving with Keith
  8. Infected Wound with Keith/Hunk
  9. Stomach Flu with Shiro
  10. Black Eye with Lance 
  11. Punctured Lung with Lance
  12. Clawing at Own Throat with Keith
  13. Self Surgery with Hunk/Keith
  14. Food Poisoning with Lance
  15. Intubation with Shiro
  16. Buried in Rubble with Hunk
  17. Rope Burns with Hunk
  18. Hypothermia with Keith/Lance
  19. Natural Disaster with Hunk/Keith



 

 

You can also check out my card on tumblr and send in stuff there if you'd like: [Click here!](https://lemonadepluto.tumblr.com/post/180157585617/alrighty-folks-lets-get-the-ball-rolling-im-a)

 

 


	2. Vehicular Accident with Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine H here on Ao3 requested: "Hi!! Could I request Lance + vehicular accident with platonic Shance or Klance? :>"
> 
> I ended up choosing platonic Klance btw~

“If you like it, it’s yours.”

 

Keith took a moment to look away at from the hoverbike before him, and glanced at the alien who just spoke. “Excuse me?”

 

“Anything for a Paladin of Voltron who just saved our planet.”

 

Keith couldn’t help the look of astonishment that he felt spread across his face. 

 

“Please - It’s my gift to you.”

 

Everything ounce of logic in Keith’s brain was telling him to politely decline the aliens offer. But his heart so wanted to take him up on it. The hoverbike was a polished red, reminding him so much of his one back on earth. The alien was right wasn’t he? Keith deserved it. He deserved something for himself for once.

 

“Hey Keith! What’s happening?” Lance had strolled up, swinging a friendly arm around Keith’s shoulders, taking in a sweeping look over the hoverbikes that were on display.

 

They were spending some time on planet Budyria, after protecting them from a Galran attack. Big on art, culture, and community, the Budyrians had insisted on launching a celebration for the victory, and it came in the form of what the paladins related to a street fair. It was a gorgeous display going on for miles, showcasing the various skills and products that were crafted by the race, and had attracted visitors from all over. 

 

“Dude these are amazing!” Lance gawked at the bikes, almost as eager to get behind the handlebars as Keith was. Without warning, he sent a cocky grin over to his teammate. “I’ll race you.”

 

* * *

  
  


It was a cheer of pure joy that escaped Lance’s lips as he zipped past countless trees, right on Keith’s tail. The wind was lovely and harsh on his face from their speed, the cold air nearly as exhilarating as the ride itself.

 

Lance had given up any kind of challenge he made almost immediately, making way for just having a plain good time. Keith had followed along suit just as quickly, his ‘stressed team leader’ demeanor almost entirely vanishing.

 

“Hey Keith!” Lance shouted out to the boy he was trailing, “Got any cool tricks?”

 

Keith tilted his head slightly to allow his voice to easier travel backwards to Lance, while still keeping his eyes forward. “If there was a cliff to dive off of, but you’ve already seen that one!”

 

Lance laughed, agreeing at the mainly flat terrain that covered the planet. There were few obstacles to dart around, not even any small hills to gain some air on. But that was okay. Because with the flat, they were able to gain speed. Lots of it. 

 

Keith was in bliss, loving the way the wind caressed his hair, reminding him of the long rides he went on back in the desert. He closed his eyes momentarily, lifting his head to the sky, trying to take in as much of the sweet feeling as he could. 

 

He squinted a little as he reopened his eyes due to Budyria’s two bright suns, but his eyes quickly came to focus, catching sight of something foreign in the sky.

 

_ Oh no _ .

 

“Lance!” Keith called out, “We need to pull back!”

 

“What?” Lance replied, not yet having seen the incoming threat.

 

“Galra cruiser!”

 

“Oh shit.”

 

Keith amped up his speed ever so slightly, speeding ahead to where the trail they were following widened just enough to be able to make a u-turn. Whether the Galra had called for backup, or this was just a leftover, Keith didn’t want to bother to stick around and find out. He needed to warn the Budyrians and gather the rest of the team.

 

So much for some time to relax.

 

Keith turned around and passed by Lance’s side as the slightly younger boy turned to do the same.

 

He didn’t get the chance to see what was happening before he heard shout, followed by a sickening crash.

 

Time seemed to move on its own as Keith turned around once again, quickly stopping his hoverbike next to the source of the noise. 

 

_ Lance. _

 

Keith scrambled off of his bike, making his way over to Lance who lay supine near where his own vehicle was crumpled into the trunk of an alien tree that lived at the edge of the trail. He must’ve lost control when making the speeding u-turn. 

 

Keith crouched down next to Lance’s head, doing a once-over with his eyes, checking for any injuries. Keith couldn’t help but be grateful that they were still in their paladin armor. 

 

“Lance, are you okay?” Keith couldn’t visibly see any wounds, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t bruises, or fractures, or worse.

 

“Yeah…” Lance grunted. He moved his arms, getting ready to prop himself up, but the second he moved his head, he winced, squinting his eyes closed, though it didn’t stop tears from making their way down his cheeks.

 

“Lance!” Keith cried out at his friend’s pain. He quickly moved behind Lance’s head, bringing out his hands to stabilize it, before slowly resting it back down on the ground. “Careful there,” he muttered, more to himself than to Lance.

 

Lance groaned, carefully bringing a hand up to his neck.

 

Keith panicked a little at this cue. “Shit. You better not have whiplash.”

 

“That wouldn’t be fun.” Lance attempted to snicker, but stopped himself. Something else hurt.

 

“Lance. Speak to me.”

 

“There might be a problem with my ribs?” Lance took in a slow, deep breath, testing for pain. His body jerked in mild agony as the breath started to expand his chest just a bit too much.

 

“Easy,” Keith crooned, not moving his hands from either side of Lance’s head. “Let’s not do that again. Easy breaths.”

 

“‘Kay.” Lance forced a smile as he glanced up at Keith’s face. 

 

The low drone of a ship from up above cut off any further conversation from happening. It was a reminder of the other looming threat. 

 

Keith motioned for the communications in his helmet to turn on, and went to speak to the rest of the team. 

 

“Guys. We’ve got a bit of an emergency.”

 

Keith waited for a moment for the other paladins to give acknowledgement that they were listening in.

 

“We’ve just sighted a Galra cruiser, about 20 doboshes out from the fair.”

 

A few startled and annoyed exclamations came back in response.

 

_ “What’s the plan?” _ Pidge finally inquired.

 

“Not sure yet. We don’t know if it’s alone or not. And Lance… We’re a bit grounded.”

 

Lance sent Keith a goofy and dazed thumbs up for his awkward way of explaining the predicament. 

 

_ “Keith, what’s happening?” _ Shiro asked, concern flooding his tone.

 

Keith hesitated with his response, listening as the cruiser flew overhead once more. He glanced around, hoping that the tree canopies were providing them with enough cover. 

 

“Lance crashed.” Keith eventually stated bluntly, “I don’t think it’d be safe to transport him back via hoverbike.”

 

_ “Noted. _ ” Shiro said back, taking charge. “ _ Pidge, can you pinpoint their location? Let’s get one of us out there to pick you guys up.” _

 

_ “On it.”  _ Pidge replied quickly.

 

“Hunk, Coran,” Keith added, “Are you able to run a radar to see if this guy is alone or not? We can’t make any plans until we know.”

 

Hunk and Coran had a quick back and forth, finding a location to meet up and run their scans. Pidge also came back, reporting with Keith and Lance’s location.

 

_ “Keith, I’m on my way. Lance, hang in there.” _ Shiro called out soon after.

 

Keith took a moment to bring his attention back to Lance now that the comms were dying down. His hands were still steadied on either side of Lance’s skull, almost too afraid to peel away.

 

“Lance, how’re you feeling?”

 

Lance’s eyes moved to look up at Keith, confused, as if he didn’t understand what Keith had said.

 

“Are you okay?” Keith repeated, speaking as clearly as he could.

 

“My ears are ringing, real loud.” Lance spoke carefully, a headache blossoming within. 

 

With some effort, Keith finally allowed one of his thumbs to break free of it’s support, rubbing gently over Lance’s temple. “Just hang in there, bud. In not even 20 doboshes, we’ll get some painkillers in you, and you’ll be good as new.”

 

Lance smiled and closed his eyes, hiding from the bright daylight that was quickly becoming too much. He let himself focus closely on the feeling of Keith’s thumbs brushing over his forehead, finding comfort in the soft touch. He did his best not to think about what it was going to be like having to move to whatever transport showed up. He didn’t want to deal with that pain just yet. So, instead, he let himself get lost in Keith’s hands.

 

“You still with me?” Keith spoke after a few moments of silence. 

 

“Yup,” Lance replied without opening his eyes, unintentionally popping the ‘p.’ “I’m here as always. You ain’t gettin’ rid of this idiot.”

 

Keith let out a stifled laugh. “Well isn’t that the truth.”

 

* * *

  
  


Lance didn’t feel like opening his eyes, but his body had decided it was time to wake up. He stared at the back of his eyelids for a while, preferring them over the lights he was expecting to be hit with once he opened them. Eventually, he gave in, opening his eyes and attempting to sit up.

 

“Hey. Don’t move, you doofus.” 

 

Lance stopped, halfway reclined, wanting to turn his head to find the source of the voice, but instead feeling an intense stiffness in his neck. He gave up and followed the voice’s command and set his head back down against the pillow. Shortly after, a familiar mullet leaned over into his view. 

 

“Hey, Keith.” Lance smiled up at his friend. 

 

“Shiro says you’re banned from flying anything other than your lion by the way.”

 

“Does he now,” Lance smirked, before mumbling, not really meaning any of his words, “old man.”

 

Keith couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Good to hear you’re okay then,” he gave a light, playful nudge to Lance’s shoulder. 

 

“Nice to see you too.” Lance chuckled back at him.

 

Sure, Lance’s neck might’ve been pretty sore, but in this moment, he didn’t mind. He was alright, and hey, he thought, he probably got out of another annoying Galra battle too. Things would be just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this ended up with a little less hurt/comfort-y than I would've liked, and I had no clue how to end it, but hey! Here it is and I really enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thanks for being here, folks!


	3. Slowly Running Out of Air with Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the lovely figandmelon on tumblr: "How about Lance running out of air while the others try to reach him in time/can hear him for the bth bingo?"

It had happened all in one horrifying instant.

 

The blast lit up the cargo hold, bringing with it a flurry of shrapnel ripping through the air. Wind started whipping through the room, blowing some of the paladins off of their feet.

 

There were shouts being thrown back and forth. Shouts to  _ hold onto something. _

 

The hull had been breached. 

 

Lance never heard the shouts though. He was too occupied by the throbbing that filled his head.  _ Had he been hit by shrapnel?  _

 

He didn’t even have the time to register what was happening before he was picked up by the harsh vacuum, being flung out into the dark of space. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Everyone! Sound off,” Shiro called out into the now silent room, all the air having left. 

 

“Keith here.”

 

“Hunk.”

 

“Pidge.”   
  


“Allura.”

 

A beat.

 

“Where’s Lance?”

 

Shiro scrambled to turn on his comms, “Lance? Do you copy?”

 

_ “Yeah, _ ” Lance’s voice was outlined by harsh breathing, “ _ I’m here. Got thrown off the ship. I’m okay though.” _

 

The paladins let out their shared held breath at Lance’s reply.

 

* * *

  
  


“I’ll be jetpacking right back over there in just a jiffy!”

 

Lance knew he was lying. As he spoke, he desperately tried to stop himself from spinning, the tumble he’d been thrown into becoming ever increasingly nauseating with his throbbing head. All the while, he watched as the Galran ship sank further and further into the distance. 

 

_ “Lance, is your helmet alright?” _ Hunk piped up, his ears picking up something slight in Lance’s broadcast.  _ “We’re hearing some static on our end.” _

 

“No?” Lance replied almost too quickly, “I’m not hearing any problems…”

 

Lance trailed off, catching the noise that Hunk was referring to. It was ever so quiet, and he wondered how Hunk had heard it so easily. But it was there alright. A tiny,  _ hair-raising _ , hiss was being produced from somewhere in his helmet. 

 

Lance’s breath caught, his breathing starting to match his growing panicked state. The sound couldn’t be what he thought it was. It just couldn’t.

 

_ “Lance? Are you alright?” _

 

_ “Lance?” _

 

_ “Talk to us!” _

 

The comms were exploding in his ears, and he didn’t want to hear it. It was loud. Too loud. And loudest of all was the distinct sound of air leaving his helmet. 

 

Lance had barely just gotten himself to stop physically spinning when his mind started doing the same with anxiety. Slowly, he reached a shaking hand up to his helmet, hovering over the spot where he’d been hit. It had to be that. He placed a couple fingers down, scared to apply any pressure. Dragging his hand slightly over the metal, he felt it. It was like a new seam that wasn’t supposed to be there, inciting fear throughout Lance’s body.

 

“Guys?” Lance spoke with a trembling exhale. “There’s a crack in my helmet.”

 

Lance couldn’t process the flurry of noise that followed his statement. Somewhere, someone was telling him to stay calm, but he couldn’t hear it.

 

_ “Shit! He’s not responding.” _

 

_ “Keith! Do you think Red would let you fly her? She’s the fastest.” _

 

_ “I’ll go with - just in case it doesn’t work.” _

 

_ “Watch out for sentries!” _

 

_ “Lance, you need to calm down. Focus on slowing your breathing.” _

 

_ “I’m gonna go to him.” _

 

_ “Good. Calm him down while we wait for a lion.” _

 

_ “Is there something you could use to patch it up?” _

 

_ “I don’t know…” _

 

_ “We’ve got your back, Hunk.” _

 

_ “Go.” _

 

With every moment that passed, Lance felt like he was in even more of a daze. He didn’t know how much of his dizziness was from the previous spinning, from the lack of air, or from the fact that he was currently hyperventilating. In the back of his mind, he knew that he needed to stop, but no matter how much he tried, the panic kept flowing freely.

 

_ Stop it! _ He tried to tell himself,  _ you’re only making this worse. _

 

It scared him how quickly he had become light headed. Part of him hoped that he was imagining it, that it was all psychological. But no. The flashing red light in the corner of his visor denied him of that comfort. Oxygen levels were running low.

 

“ _ Lance, buddy, are you still with me?” _ It was Hunk.

 

The sound of his friend’s voice made Lance snap back into reality, if only for a moment.

 

“Yeah.” Was all Lance could gasp out in reply.

 

_ “I’m on my way. WE are on our way.” _ He paused for a moment, thinking. _ “Do you remember your breath counts?” _

 

Lance was ever grateful for Hunk. When Lance would have bad mental health days, he’d never question, he’d just act. 

 

“Yeah,” Lance repeated, doing his best to allow Hunk’s voice to distract him from the hissing.

 

_ “Four, seven, eight, okay? I’ll count, you breath along.” _

 

It was something Hunk would do for Lance when he’d found himself stricken with anxiety, a panic attack, or even a rough depressive episode. It was something he could do, something he could focus on. 

 

Hunk started counting over the comms, and Lance did his best to follow along. Breath in for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight. He could do this.

 

_ “OXYGEN LEVELS AT TEN PERCENT.”  _  A cold, unfeeling, automated voice blasted through his helmet. 

 

Any resolve Lance had left to stay calm was sucked out into the void of space along with the air. He felt himself gasp through his haze, his eyes watering up and blurring his vision. 

 

_ “Lance? Come on Lance, breathe. I’m almost there.” _

 

_ “Keith? Pidge? What’s your status?” _

 

Lance’s suit’s alert must’ve been loud enough to hear over the comms.

 

_ “Red was blocked by a few too many soldiers! We’re nearly at Green now though. Just a few more doboshes now.” _

 

Lance couldn’t focus on anything. All of his senses were feeling muted, dull, and gray, like some kind of fuzziness had clouded his whole connection to the outside world. He was light headed, he couldn’t think. He knew his lungs were aching with their efforts to bring in more air, but none of it registered. 

 

Suddenly a pair of warm arms wrapped around him, a harsh contrast from the cold void of space. 

 

“Lance?” Lance heard a sound coming from the source of the warmth. “Lance. Please, look at me.”

 

Lance wanted so desperately to follow the instructions given, but his body wouldn’t exactly listen. His eyes darted around as he forced them to try and focus, to try and make sense of what was happening. Sadly it was too much with his gasping for breath, and everything continued to slip away...

 

* * *

 

Hunk powered up his jetpack to its highest speed when he caught sight of the Green Lion approaching. He wrapped his arms even tighter around Lance, pulling him along as the Lion opened its massive jaws, allowing them to enter.

 

The two of them collapsed as the Lion closed its mouth around them, the artificial gravity pulling Lance’s dead weight to the ground. Keith was at their side in an instant, Pidge still piloting.

 

“He’s not responding…” Hunk found himself shaking, tears falling freely down his face as the adrenaline in his body overflowed with the worry for his friend. 

 

“Give him your helmet,” Keith ordered calmly as he crouched down, reaching for Lance’s arm.

 

Hunk did as he was told, swapping Lance’s helmet for his own, focusing on Keith’s actions as a way to try to ground himself. 

 

Keith pulled up a screen from Lance’s gauntlet, and began fiddling with some controls. He noticed Hunk observing him, and begun to explain. “I’m upping the saturation of oxygen he’s getting.” As Keith finished his adjustments, he didn’t put Lance’s arm down, instead, pressing his fingers into his wrist, feeling for the light heartbeat.

 

Soon enough, Lance’s breaths became visible once more, his chest heaving as his body began to work again, condensation steaming up the glass of the helmet. Lance groaned, and Hunk’s tears turned into those of relief. Hunk reached over and grabbed Lance’s other hand, giving it a firm squeeze. 

 

Lance opened his eyes at the new contact, glancing up at his two teammates who were fretting over him. He let his eyes slink back shut. He was exhausted. 

 

“We’ve got him,” Keith called out over the comms to Shiro and Allura who had remained on the Galran ship, protecting the other Lions. “He’s gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea if any of this was even slightly scientifically accurate, but apparently if a puncture smaller than 3mm happens during an EVA, it's survivable as long as you're quick enough. My source for that info was a quick google search so who knows. I'm not a science major.
> 
> Anyhow I really enjoyed this one.  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Kneecapping with Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Emma~  
> "Hello!! If it's not already taken, could you please do kneecapping + Shiro (preferably with platonic friendships)?"

Shiro couldn’t get up, being slammed to the floor with enough force to knock all the wind out of him. 

 

He’d been kidnapped. By who exactly he wasn’t sure. But they were human, and they were angry, vicious. With all his time spent fighting the Galra, he had forgotten about the frequent newscasts, showcasing the brutality that could come from his own race. 

 

He now wished he still had his Galran arm. A weapon like that could’ve been useful in a situation such as this.

 

Something was pressed into the back of his knee, but Shiro couldn’t really register it, still struggling to catch his breath, to catch his grip on reality. 

 

A bang echoed through the cold room, bringing with it pain unlike any other. Shiro’s scream matched the bang in the air, blending into an ugly harmony. He writhed until he could pull his leg up closer to his body, cradling it through its torment. 

 

“That oughta keep him from running off.”

 

“Captain of the Atlas and former paladin of Voltron? I bet they’ll pay a lot to get this one back.”

 

The words were fuzzy in Shiro’s head. Footsteps smacked against the concrete floor, mixing with the ringing in his ears, as the chatter slowly became distant.

 

“Shouldn’t we do the other one?”

 

“No. Save the bullet.”

 

Shiro didn’t dare look down at his leg. He could already feel the damage that was done in the form of blood slowly congealing against his flesh hand. A sensation of ice spread up and down his leg, needles filling his veins. If his knee caught his vision, he knew it’d only make the pain worse. It would make the pain more real. 

 

Shiro’s instincts were shouting loudly at him in his head, urging him to get up, assess his surroundings, and escape. He could do this. He told himself that nothing could be worse than his time in the Galra’s prisons. He’d get through an injured knee, no problem. 

 

He forced himself to blink his eyes into vision, fighting through the tears that were collecting there. The room was empty, entirely so. A door, his exit into the rest of the building, was wide open. 

 

Hope flickered through Shiro’s veins but quickly died as he urged his leg to move. It wouldn’t budge, only flaring up with enough pain to make the usually stoic man whimper.

 

He was stuck here.

 

He was alone.

 

* * *

  
  


The paladins convened a few hundred feet away from the abandoned building, planning their next move. Shiro’s struggled capture didn’t at all go unnoticed, and they’d been trailing his assailants as soon as they picked up on their whereabouts. And it had led them here, to this building which must’ve been used as their base.

 

Pidge had scanned the structure, bringing up a hologram of it’s layout on her gauntlet. Keith was using this, describing their exact moves and choices in how they’d get Shiro out.

 

All of it stopped as a gunshot sounded through the air.

 

“MOVE!” Keith shouted, adrenaline kicking his body into action. The others followed, just as panicked.

 

Keith led the way into the building, his Marmoran blade at the ready. Hunk and Pidge flanked him closeby, with Lance trailing a few steps behind, bayard out and poised.  

 

The building was dark other than the light that filtered through old windows, lamps being long broken. 

 

“Pidge,” Keith spoke out, “You take that path. Lance, watch her back. Hunk, with me.”

 

Keith and Hunk crept down the hallway as quietly as possible, listening out for any signs of Shiro or the attackers. A few doors down, they heard it. It was quiet, muffled arguing from behind a closed door.

 

Keith waved Hunk over as he pressed his ear up against the door.

 

_ “You thought you could get a transmission through to the Garrison like that? It’s got military level security you idiot.” _

 

Keith swallowed heavily. Shiro was being held hostage. At least that meant they were keeping him alive. 

 

“Ready?” Keith whispered to Hunk as he reached for the doorknob, checking to see if it was locked before making another move.

 

Hunk nodded, raising his bayard in preparation. 

 

At Hunk’s cue, Keith swung the door open, quickly shocking and cornering the two men who were inside. 

 

A quick glance. Shiro wasn’t present.

 

“Where is he.”

 

* * *

  
  


Pidge stopped a moment, fiddling with the settings on her gauntlet, searching for heat signatures. She looked up, aiming it up and down the hallway.

 

“I’m not picking up on anything yet. Let’s keep moving.” She nodded to Lance, and continued down the way.

 

They walked for a few long moments, Pidge’s eyes honed onto her screen, while Lance’s were scanning up and down the corridors. 

 

“Wait.” Pidge stopped in her tracks. “I think it’s reading something over…”

 

Lance’s keen eyes spotted it before Pidge could finish her sentence. He ran off down a side hall, admittedly letting his guard down. But it didn’t matter. They had found Shiro.

 

A quick turn into a small room, and there he was. 

 

Lance cursed under his breath.

 

Shiro laid in the empty room, eyes squeezed shut, curled around a bloodied leg. 

 

Lance immediately rushed over to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Pidge went to update Hunk and Keith.

 

“Shiro, hey, are you with me buddy?” Lance gave Shiro the gentlest of nudges.

 

Shiro cracked his eyes open, his gaze coming into contact with Lance’s. Lance smiled, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving to look at his leg.

 

It was bad - the amount of blood was shocking of a wound of its location. Lance surmised that the entry wound must’ve been large, the shot being taken at a close range. He couldn’t see the worst of it though, Shiro’s leg bent as closed as it would go, hiding the inside of his knee. He could see enough to know it had done its damage though. His knee was misshapen, bones out of place. 

 

Lance glanced up without losing contact with Shiro, making sure he knew that help was still there. He was hoping there’d be something nearby that he could use, but the room was empty.

 

Pidge was lingering at the doorway, talking with Keith and Hunk over the comms. The amount of blood had left her queasy, guiltily unwilling to get closer. 

 

Lance cued into the comms himself. “Can you guys find something we can use as a splint?”

 

_ “On it. _ ” A quick reply came from Hunk. “ _ We’re nearly there.” _

 

“Shiro,” Lance turned back to the injured man. “We’re gonna have to straighten out your leg.”

 

Shiro huffed a weak rejection at Lance’s request. “...can’t.”

 

“It’s gonna be fine,” Lance pleaded with him, carefully laying his own hands over Shiro’s that were gripped by his knee. 

 

“How is he?” Pidge settled down next to Lance, finally having settled her nausea enough to handle the situation. 

 

“They fucking kneecapped him.” Lance muttered silently.

 

Pidge twitched uncomfortably at the thought, tears welling up in her eyes. She crawled silently over to sit next to Shiro’s head, wishing for some way to comfort them both.

 

Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps filled up the near empty building. Lance and Pidge turned their heads to see Hunk and Keith rushing through the door. Keith had piece of rebar in hand, and Hunk was carrying the packed first aid kit that they had brought along with them. The two quickly joined them at Shiro’s side.

 

“Shit.” Keith cursed upon the sight of Shiro’s injury. 

 

“Alright. We’re gonna do this Shiro.” Lance spoke softly, gently peeling Shiro’s hands away from his leg. 

 

Pidge quickly snatched up a hand in her own, holding it tight. 

 

Hunk shuffled back a little, moving to the other side of Pidge as more of the wound was revealed. 

 

It was bad.

 

“C’mon Shiro,” Keith started, “Let us wrap it up, then we can get you out of here.”

 

Shiro breathed in a shuddered breath, attempting to put on his best brave face.

 

Lance brought his hands down onto Shiro’s calf, trying as gently as he could to coax his leg out straight. 

 

Each jolted movement caused pain to spiral through Shiro’s body, causing him to gasp out in agony. 

 

Pidge did her best to shush him, running a thumb over his blood soaked knuckles.

 

“Lance.” Keith asked quietly, taking Lance’s position. He turned his view, making eye contact with Shiro. “I’m gonna do this quick, okay?”

 

Shiro blinked slowly, his breaths shuddering. “Okay,” he let out.

 

In one swift movement, Keith repositioned Shiro’s leg. A pained shout came along with the action. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still made Keith’s stomach flutter with guilt.

 

“You hanging in there?” Keith asked.

 

“Yeah,” Shiro tried to say, but it came out more as a grunt.

 

Lance didn’t hesitate to reach over and grab the gauze from Hunk, who had been preparing it for quick use. He expertly began rolling the bandages around Shiro’s knee, grateful to the first aid training he got during his time as a garrison student. 

 

“Keith, do you have that rod?” Lance spoke, but didn’t look up form his work, making sure that every spot of injured flesh was covered with pressure. They couldn’t risk a dirty piece of rebar coming in contact with his wound. 

 

Lance worked quickly, strapping the bar to support Shiro’s leg with more bandages, making sure the sharp ends were covered, protecting Shiro from unnecessary harm. 

 

Shiro felt himself float back and forth on the edge of consciousness. He could feel the pain in his leg getting stronger here and there as things came into contact with his wound, pressure being applied. He searched through his blurry vision, knowing that help was there, but just wanting everything to end.

 

Shiro shuddered as he finally felt strong arms lifting him up into a seated position. 

 

“Lance, Keith, can one of your get his other arm for me?” Hunk spoke from behind him.

 

“I need to watch your guys’ backs.” Lance spoke, nodding to Keith to help Hunk in supporting Shiro.

 

Keith moved himself, crouching down to Shiro’s side and draping a metallic arm over his shoulders. Hunk did the same on the other side.

 

“Alright. Lift on three,” Hunk directed. 

 

Keith followed the command, raising himself and Shiro up on cue.

 

Shiro writhed with pain at the slightest bit of pressure being placed on his leg. Hunk tightened his grip against Shiro’s side, keeping him upright through this agony.

 

Pidge took her place in front, and Lance in the back.

 

It was going to be slow going, but they’d make it.


	5. Muzzled with Hunk/Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an amazing anon on Tumblr~

“Don’t you dare touch him!” Hunk screamed at the guard that was making his way towards Keith. If his teeth were sharp, and less human, he was sure he’d have them bared. Hunk rushed at the guard, not caring about how his hands were locked behind his back.

 

They might have been captured, but Hunk sure as hell wasn’t going to let anything else happen to him or his teammates. Especially not Keith.

 

Hunk didn’t get as far as he would have liked. A Galran arm gripped onto his throat, slamming him into the cell wall.

 

Spots danced around Hunk’s vision as he forced himself to regain focus. He saw red. Movement. That was good. Keith was slowly peeling himself up off of the ground. They’d left him alone. For now.

 

Hunk brought his attention to the hand gripping at his collar. His mind rushed at a hundred miles a minute, trying to figure out what to do in his predicament. But he couldn’t let himself think too much. Too much thinking and the anxiety and fear would come. So he just acted.

 

Hunk craned his neck, weaseling himself just enough out of the guard’s hold. He couldn’t move much, but he could reach what his instinct was telling him to do. Hunk shot his head forward, making contact with the arm that had been holding him up. Fabric met teeth, and he clamped his jaw shut.

 

Various cries filled out the small room. The clearest was the one of the guard before him, shouting out in shock and pain. Around Hunk were his teammates, protesting against his impulsive action. 

 

Hunk couldn’t help but agree with them for a moment. This wasn’t like him. He couldn’t help but feel a split second of horror with himself as a taste of iron began to flow over his tongue. But he knew why he’d done it. He’d do anything to help his team. To help Keith.

 

Hunk’s time of thinking didn’t last. Pressure was applied with force along various parts of his body. The guard was fighting back. Did he have back up?

 

Hunk rebelled as much as he could without the use of his arms. But it was hopeless. He felt himself quickly being escorted out of the room, away from his teammates. 

 

Hunk’s adrenaline fueled craze finally gave way to panic and anxiety as he heard his friends call out his name, pleading for him to be brought back.

 

_ It’s okay _ , Hunk told himself, trying to quiet his shaking core,  _ as long as they are hurting me, and not them. _

 

He was tossed into a room, darker and colder than the previous without his team. Fear flooded through his body stronger than before, coming with it, a sudden wave of regret for his previous actions. Hunk wanted to keep telling himself that it was all okay, that he was keeping the others safe, but he didn’t really know anymore.

 

Hands. Hands were all Hunk could focus on as his mind clouded over in panic. A hand was gripping the top of his head, pulling tight on his hair. Another was searching, raising something to his face. 

 

His head was yanked forward away from the wall, giving the Galran soldiers access to the back of his head. 

 

Hunk didn’t want to even consider what they were doing. 

 

Unpleasant, rough fingers pried his jaw open, and Hunk fought as much as he could to keep his mouth closed. It was no use. Something metal was forced against his face, quickly secured around the back of his head. More metal now protruded into his mouth, driving him to bite down on it. It was sharp, unfinished, cold metal, cutting into the corners of his mouth and his cheeks. It was a muzzle.

 

In a flurry of panic, Hunk tested his jaw’s ability to move in this state. Snickering was heard as he strained against the device, trying to stretch against the restraints. But he couldn’t. His mouth was in an uncomfortable state of half-open. If he tried to open his mouth further, the metal tugged and pulled at his face, slicing messily into his skin. If he tried to close his mouth, his lips came upon sharp edges, drawing blood in their own way.

 

Tears ran freely down his face. Hunk couldn’t stop them now. He couldn’t keep the strong demeanor he’d been trying to hold on to. He regretted his impulses fully now. If he hadn’t made that move, he’d still be with his friends right now, without this pain.

 

But if he didn’t, Keith might be hurting more than he could imagine.

 

Hunk did his best, holding onto who he was and his choices, even as the universe seemed to slip away beyond his blurry eyes.

 

And, before he even knew it, he was alone.

 

* * *

  
  


Hours had passed before the rest of the paladins had found their window of escape. 

 

They had been lucky enough to be greeted by a particularly cocky guard, intent on teaching the paladins “a lesson.” He was so caught up in being self-centered that it was easy for the group to overwhelm him, snatching the keys to their cuffs off his belt.

 

“Keith?! Where’re you going?” Pidge called out after him as he tore down the hallway.

 

“I’m finding Hunk!” He called back, his words difficult to hear as he ran farther away.

 

Keith glanced in and out of the cells as he passed them, searching through their small windows for any sign of their yellow paladin.

 

There he was.

 

Keith bashed against the cell’s locking mechanism with his shoulder, not caring about the dull ache it caused. He had to get the door open. 

 

He heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and turned to see the rest of his team quickly catching up with him.

 

“Pidge, can you get this open?”

 

Pidge gently pushed Keith out of the way, placing herself in front of the now damaged keypad. She glanced up at Keith for a moment after noticing its broken state, but quickly got to work with what she had. After syncing up her gauntlet with the galra machinery, a light click was heard, signaling the door was now unlocked. 

 

Keith gently forced himself to the front, entering into the room first. 

 

The second he laid eyes on Hunk, his heart leapt into his throat. The entire rest of the universe seemed to drown out. Nothing mattered but Hunk and his current state. 

 

Keith quickly made his way to Hunk’s side, crouching down to make eye contact. “Hunk,” he called out, aiming to bring his friend out of his daze. 

 

Hunk slowly turned to look at Keith, his eyes bloodshot with fear. Keith could barely focus on Hunk’s eyes though. The crude muzzle lining his face was taking up most of his attention. 

 

A groan of shared pain escaped Keith’s lips as he reached his hand up to examine the contraption. “I’m gonna try to get this off of you,” Keith crooned, trying hard to hold Hunk’s eye contact. 

 

Hunk nodded slowly, letting Keith fill up his world. If there was just Keith, he didn’t have to worry any longer.

 

Keith gently moved around Hunk’s head to find how the muzzle was clamped together, and quickly made work of unscrewing the single bolt that was holding it together. He unlaced the straps from around Hunk’s ears, but stopped as he tried to remove the faceplate.

 

Hunk winced in agony, and Keith joined him, filled with consternation as he eyed the blood that began to roll down Hunk’s neck. 

 

“Hang in there, Hunk,” Keith muttered under his breath as he considered the best way to do this. 

 

He decided, for the both of them, to get it over and done with quickly. He couldn’t see Hunk is this pain any longer. 

 

Keith pried the muzzle away as quickly as he could while still being gentle.

 

Hunk writhed, protesting against the pain, but eventually the muzzle was removed anyways. Hunk gasped, his tearful sobs becoming clearer as the metal cleared his mouth, painfully clashing against his teeth on the way. 

 

Keith breathed easier too, glad to see that the cuts weren’t as bad as he had feared. They’d have to clean them as soon as they got back to their lions though.

 

Keith look back into Hunk’s exhausted eyes, searching for what to do next. 

 

“‘m sorry…” Hunk let out slowly, only opening his jaw the bare minimum to speak.

 

Keith raised up his gloved hands to either side of Hunk’s face, carefully avoiding the cuts across the top of his cheekbones. He massaged his thumbs into the corners of Hunk’s jaw, easing his ache as best as he could.

 

“Don’t apologize,” Keith muttered back, letting himself smile. “You saved me.”

 

Hunk blinked away more tears as he continued his unbroken gaze at Keith. His jaw jerked as he wanted to speak, but it was too painful, so he let himself focus on Keith’s caress instead. 

 

Keith watched as Hunk slowly began to calm at his touch, and let his heart rate return to normal levels. 

 

Around them, Lance carefully maneuvered behind Hunk, breaking away his cuffs. Pidge and Allura kept watch, waiting to finish up their escape.

 

Keith finally allowed himself to look away from the boy before him, glancing up at his teammates, making sure his hands didn’t leave their comforting positions. 

 

“Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sending in prompt requests and helping me get better at writing!  
> Love y'all~


	6. Insomnia with Lance/Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Royalbluepaladin here on Ao3!
> 
> "Hey, could you do insomnia + Lance with possible Klance mixed in?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this one. 'Twas good and fuzzy for a change.

He excused himself immediately after dinner, forcing himself back to his room, carrying with him a mug full of tea. Something within him though that if he put himself to bed early enough, he might have enough time to actually fall asleep tonight. 

 

Lance sipped at the chamomile almost painfully slowly, wondering if it would actually have any effect tonight. It hadn’t the previous night, nor the night before that. It didn’t hurt to keep trying though. 

 

He made his way into his room’s connected bathroom, running a tired hand through his hair. If he could keep up his routine, maybe it’d all go back to normal. Maybe he could have a good night’s rest again.

 

He reached out to turn on the faucet, feeling for the water to run warm before he splashed it on his face. Too cold and it’d wake him up more than he needed. He sluggishly went to work washing his face and completing his evening skin care routine, slipping into his sleep-deprived thoughts. He couldn’t let the team down. He was tired, but surely everyone else was too. They were fighting a war for pete’s sake. He couldn’t let this little thing ruin him while everyone else was holding up. If that meant sacrificing his free time for more self care, then so be it. 

 

Face mask applied, Lance changed and finally let himself head to bed, leaving the half drunken cup of tea discarded on the bathroom counter. He couldn’t stomach it anymore. As much as he wanted to believe he’d be able to sleep easy tonight, he knew it wasn’t the truth. It hadn’t been the truth in a long while. 

 

He glanced at the clock. It was only just past eight. Surely he could find some form of rest within the next 12 hours?

 

He sat on his bed, reluctant to get settled. Opening a draw in his bed side table, he removed Pidge’s green headphones. He’d need to return them sometime, but Pidge still hadn’t brought it up, even after all these months. He wasn’t going to bring it up if she wasn’t. 

 

He slipped the headphones over his ears, taking his time to select a playlist off of his cell phone-like device. He hadn’t been feeling the need to listen to music as much since they’d returned to Earth - he’d been using it in the past as a form of comfort for his homesickness. But maybe, he thought, music could once again help him sleep better. Again, it didn’t hurt to try.

 

He settled on some instrumental tracks, keeping his mind from focusing too strongly on song lyrics. He didn’t need another hapless thing spinning around in his head. 

 

Lance shut his eyes once he’d settled down, working hard to clear his brain, to focus on something calm, something that could lull him to sleep. 

 

Visions of a beach painted the backs of his eyelids. Water thrummed steadily against soft sand. The sky was turning grey, opposed to the warmth that was still held in the ground. It was going to rain. Lance didn’t mind. He sat on the beach watching as the clouds rolled in over strangely calm waters. He focused on the way the swirled as they moved, mapping out their every shape. He watched the way the light sand slowly became a heavy mud as the rain started to fall, feeling as he could mold it under his fingertips. He felt the way the rain fell over his shoulders and against his face, sending little vibrations with each impact. Little vibrations that sent a relaxing warmth through Lance’s body. Little vibrations that started to grow along with the warmth. Little vibrations that were suddenly bigger than he could handle, feeling like explosions against his arms. That felt like the force of a gun firing. The force of his own bayard as he sent out a blast, racking up his arms and shaking his own body to the core. The force of him shooting. Shooting someone. Killing.

 

Lance threw his eyes open, at first not registering anything but the cold sweat that covered his entire body. It was uncomfortable, stifling even. He thrashed out his body, kicking his duvet off of him and onto the floor. He rolled over and curled up into himself, feeling cold at the new lack of coverage, but still too hot at the same time. The clock came into his few. It was nearly one in the morning. So he did sleep, he thought, but he didn’t feel rested in the slightest. He actually felt worse off.

 

It was going to be a long night, not unlike all the others.

 

Lance sat up in bed, not wanting to try for sleep again immediately. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bare toes coming in contact with the cold linoleum tiles of his assigned room. He slowly made his way over to the bathroom, hoping to get a drink of water. Upon entering the bathroom, he saw half-drunken cup of tea. Maybe that could settle the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

 

Lance picked up the mug, cradling it in his two hands. It was stone cold. He sighed inwardly, knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep anyways, so he decided to make the trip to find a microwave. There was one in the dorm’s common area. It wasn’t too far. 

 

He made his way out into the hallway, not bothering to even put on shoes. It was a short walk until he found himself basked in the warm artificial light of the common room. 

 

Lance sluggishly placed his half-full mug in the microwave, setting the timer to one minute. He stood there, letting his exhausted eyes watch the shaped ceramic as it spun in slow circles.

 

Footsteps suddenly came padding quietly into earshot, and Lance looked up and away from the microwave in search of the noise. 

 

“Keith,” Lance called out at the boy who was approaching him, his voice scratchy from sleep. “What are you doing up?”

 

Keith strolled into the lounge space just as the timer beeped off on the microwave. “I could ask you the same thing,” he chuckled, “My mom insisted that I watch an ‘Earth movie’ with her. Was just getting back.” He made his way to lean against the counter next to Lance, his face showing the tiniest bit of concern. “How about you?”

 

Lance retrieved his drink from the microwave, sending a long stare into the now steaming liquid. “Just… couldn’t sleep is all.” He glanced up at Keith, sending him a small grin through his face mask.

 

“I figured as much…” Keith frowned back. “Have you been alright lately?”

 

“Huh?” Lance replied, confused at Keith’s seemingly sudden concern.

 

“Sorry,” Keith began to explain, “I’ve just noticed recently - you haven't been sleeping well, have you.”

 

Lance buried his focus back in his drink. “I guess not.”

 

“If there’s anything I can do, uh, as the team leader.” Keith ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably. “It’s just that, you’ve been dazing off in missions and training. I’m worried - I mean, the team’s worried. We’re all worried.” 

 

Lance shrugged, turning away. He wanted to kick himself. The team - his friends - had noticed how incompetent he was becoming due to this tiny little thing. He didn’t need Keith to tell it to his face like this. 

 

“What I guess I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to suffer through this alone.” Keith’s words drew back Lance’s attention. 

 

Lance stood for a moment, stunned through his sleepy haze. A pang hit his chest, choking him up beyond any explanation he could think of. So he just let himself stand in silence.

 

“Stay there,” Keith spoke again, turning to leave, “I know where Coran keeps the sleeping pills.”

 

Keith ran off, the sound of his still shoed feet clipping the floor echoing through the hallway. Lance shuffled in place, suddenly feeling increasingly vulnerable. He moved, bringing himself to rest on one of the lounge’s couches.

 

It didn’t take long for Keith to return, a small bottle of pills in his hand.

 

“Have you also been having trouble sleeping?” Lance questioned as Keith re-entered the space.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You know where the pills are. Does that mean you’ve also had to use them?”

 

“Ah, no.” Keith stared at the bottle in his hand for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to Lance. “I’ve had to get them for Shiro… a few times.”

 

Lance didn’t look up at Keith as he took the pills from him. “Thanks.”

 

Lance carefully studied the bottle for a moment, reading the dosage requirements before downing two pills along with his tea.

 

The air quickly grew quiet and uncomfortable. Lance had expected Keith to immediately leave after running that errand, but here he was, still sitting on the couch next to him. Lance couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable at his own state, dressed in pajamas with a slightly smudged face mask. He felt extremely vulnerable, especially after Keith had pointed out his problems.

 

Lance had never wanted to feel weak, not in front of his team, not in front of anyone. The pit in his stomach quickly came back again, pushing tears up into his eyes. There was no hiding it now. As much as he wanted to blink the tears away, to quiet the sniffles, it was all pouring out. All the disturbed and sleepless nights had finally caught up to him. All the strategic and diplomatic meeting and battles and fights and training… Lance finally felt exhausted. He wondered if it was just the pills working, or if this was how tired he’d been all along.

 

He felt an arm wrap around him, encouraging his head to lean over against a shoulder. There was a quiet, low voice shushing away his tears.

 

“I’m cancelling tomorrow morning’s training. You sleep as long as you need, okay?”

 

Lance nodded in acknowledgement, not registering as he smeared more of his face mask onto Keith’s shoulder. 

 

Somewhere in Lance’s brain, his knew he should probably get up and take himself back to his room. But he was tired, and warm, and his head finally felt so clear, his worries washed away with the tears. He knew he could fall asleep right here.

 

Keith just smiled at the finally sleeping boy, and held him close to his side. 


	7. Degloving with Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picked this one out for myself as I wasn't sure how it was going to work, and then I suddenly had an idea. 
> 
> It's a little bit gruesome so be wary if that's not for you~

Keith eyed at the slim shard of metal that lay on the floor of his cell. He shimmied his body, reaching out his leg to see if he could draw it closer. With a flick of his ankle, it bounced into the air, landing just within arm’s reach.

 

If only he could use his arms. 

 

He and Lance had been captured while on a mission, and Keith now found himself separated from his teammate, wrists shackled and chained to the wall. He tugged experimentally at his wrists. He wasn’t about to sit around and wait to be rescued. He needed to get out of here himself.

 

Keith glared at the metal shard next to him. He knew he’d be able to use it to unlock the cuffs, if only he could reach it. Maybe…

 

Keith pulled at his right hand once more, tucking his thumb in to make his hand as slim as possible. Maybe he could just slide his hand out of the cuff. Keith almost felt stupid for considering the option - he knew the restraints were too tight for it to work. Well, it wasn’t like he had anything else to try.

 

Keith’s mind flickered to Lance. He didn’t know his teammate’s whereabouts, nor his condition. What if he was injured? What if he wasn’t okay? The galra could make a move on them in any moment. Keith decided that this was the motivation he needed to act.

 

Keith was certainly no stranger to pain. He told himself that this would be nothing, that it would be entirely worth it in the long run. Some pain now would save pain later. 

 

He began to tug at his right arm with more force, on a mission to remove his hand from the cuff, whatever it would take. 

 

It wasn’t long before the pain was immense. 

 

His hand was simply too big to fit. The edges of the cuff pulled at the skin at the base of his hand, creating a sharp, burning rash. Keith paused for a moment, finding how his heart rate had increased, his breathing becoming involuntarily harsh. He wouldn’t get anywhere with his hand in its current state. 

 

Keith took in a deep, shuddered breath, acting impulsively on his next thought. Without giving himself time to take a second guess, he rammed himself backwards, smashing his hand between his back and the wall.

 

Keith let himself scream in pain.

 

He wasn’t sure exactly how much damage he’d caused, but his thumb was certainly broken. 

 

_ Maybe that’ll do it. _

 

Keith tried to steady himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He stared at the splotches of light formed by the stress, focusing in on them. 

 

It was now or never.

 

He yanked his hand against the restraint once again, scarily satisfied by how his thumb crumpled out of the way. He was actually grateful by how numb his hand felt after that initial injury. He might’ve not been able to bare this otherwise. It hurt enough even with the numbing. 

 

Keith began to pull and pull on his hand like his life depended on it, not hiding the tears that began to flow down his cheeks. It hurt like nothing else, his flesh burning as it was forced against metal. He felt his subconscience trying to retaliate against his actions, but Keith breathed through it, huffing in breaths deeper than he’d ever thought possible. He needed to do this. He needed to fight through. 

 

A couple more tugs and he’d be there, he told himself. 

 

Easier said than done.

 

Keith gave another, stronger, forceful pull when he felt it - the sensation of his skin ripping apart. He lurched forward, as if he was trying to get away from the feeling. His throat caught, dry heaving from the awful pain. 

 

He bit his lip, urging himself into distraction. He needed to continue. He needed to finish what he started. 

 

_ One more. Just one more. _

 

Keith yanked at the restraints one last time, his pain sending him into a frenzy of adrenaline. This time, he barely felt more than the sliding of blood and skin through his cloudy brain. Suddenly, his hand was free. 

 

He found himself gasping for air as he pulled his arm to his front, cradling his hand in his lap. He didn’t want to look at it, didn’t want to witness the damage, but his eyes flickered down anyways. 

 

There was so much blood. 

 

Skin was shredded and missing around the heel and side of his palm and at the base of his thumb. Some of it was painfully pressed up higher on his hand. The rest was torn away, gone, revealing bloodied and bruised muscle. Keith stomach wanted to flip not only from the site of it, but from the nauseating pain that it created. 

 

He forced himself to focus on his unsteady breaths, riding what was left of his adrenaline. He needed to finish his escape. 

 

His hand involuntarily twitched in pain as he moved it to pick up the small shard of metal, reaching back to find the cuffs that still sat connected to his left hand. With his only just working fingers, he felt for the keyhole, and forced the metal into it, feeling for a click. Without much effort, the cuff popped open, and Keith brought both hands back to his front, cradling his injured one in his left. 

 

He could do this.

 

Keith stood up, moving slow to compromise for his shaking body. He easily shimmied through the cell bars, them being created the house the much larger bodied Galran race. 

 

Finding Lance didn’t take any time - he was just one cell over. 

 

Lance’s head perked up from it’s hung over position at the sound of Keith’s footsteps. 

 

“Keith!” Lance called out, excited to see his teammate.

 

Keith quickly entered the cell, crouching down next to Lance to unlock his cuffs. “Are you okay?”

 

“A little bruised but I’ll be-” He cut himself off. “ _Dios_ _mio_ , Keith, what happened to your hand?”

 

“It’s fine,” Keith huffed out unconvincingly as he fumbled to unlock Lance’s restraints with only his left hand.

 

“Keith,” Lance spoke, his voice muddled with horror and concern, “This is clearly not fine.”

 

With a light click, the cuffs fell off of Lance’s wrists.

 

“Let’s get out of here.” Keith bit his lip in agony as he stood back up, making his way to exit ahead of Lance. 

 

“Fine,” Lance gave in, “But you’re letting me look at that once we’re safe.”

 

It didn’t take long. Both paladins soon heard Red roaring through their heads, alerting them of her arrival. They ran down the corridor at the sound, following her call. With a loud bang, Red smashed her face through the hull of the ship, opening her mouth for her paladins’ entry. Immediately after Lance and Keith had boarded, Red pulled back, zipping off towards the rest of their team.

 

Keith padded through the lion to the cockpit, moving to sit down and pilot. 

 

“Nuh-uh,” Lance called after him, not too far behind.

 

Keith glanced up and Lance from his place in the chair, trying and failing to hide his right hand from view. 

 

Lance had already grabbed the emergency kit on his way in.

 

“Give it here,” Lance suddenly crooned, kneeling on the floor in front of the pilot’s seat.

 

Keith hesitantly gave over his hand, and Lance gently held it in his own. Even this tender contact was enough to make Keith hiss in pain. His hand felt like it was burning. 

 

Lance carefully flipped Keith’s hand over, resting the back of his hand over his left, Keith’s palm up to the sky. 

 

Lance cursed at the full sight of Keith’s wound, clenching his teeth in silent horror. It wasn’t good, and Lance wasn’t quite sure how to treat an avulsion like this. 

 

He tore through the first aid kit with his free hand, looking for some answers. He needed to clean it, cover it, and the misshapen look of Keith’s thumb also needed to be dealt with somehow.

 

Lance’s fingers curled around a bottle of saline solution. This would do well. He glanced up into Keith’s eyes, silently alerting him of his upcoming action, before pouring the water all over his open wound. Keith flinched, gasping as his hand stung, and tried to pull away. Lance stopped him, wrapping his fingers around his wrist as gently as he could. 

 

“I’m not sure how to wrap this,” Lance admitted, his right hand coming to hover over where parts of Keith’s torn skin still remained attached.

 

Keith groaned outwardly at the words, just wanting this to be over with.

 

“Hey,” Lance made soft eye contact, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll be back with the team in just a bit, and I’m sure Coran’ll know just what to do. I just gotta cover it for the time being.”

 

Lance grabbed some gauze from the kit, and began loosely wrapping it around Keith’s hand. It didn’t do much to stop the blood flow, but Lance was too afraid of hurting him further. He didn’t want to accidentally wrongly set his thumb, or damage skin that might be saveable. All he could confidently do now keep the wound clean and away from the elements.

 

Keith whimpered as Lance finished up, pulling his hand back into his lap. Lance was taken a bit a back, studying his teammate’s uncharacteristically pained face. It hurt bad, and while Lance felt it from the visual, he knew he couldn’t truly empathize with the agony Keith was currently feeling. 

 

Lance raised up a hand, placing it on Keith’s knee as an act of comfort as he turned to look out Red’s monitor. They were just a few doboshes out now. Keith would be able to be out of his pain soon.

 

“Thanks,” Lance spoke after a moment of silence, “for getting us out of there.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say right now. Keith had gone through so much pain to guarantee his and Lance’s safety. He had no idea how he’d be able to express his feelings and gratitude on the matter.

 

Instead, he just held on to Keith’s knee, letting him know he was there, cooing and shushing him through his torment. He’d talk to him properly when this was all over. 


	8. Infected Wound with Keith/Hunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Maria~  
> "Could you do the infected wound one for Keith please? With Heith aftercare?"
> 
> This is less Heith aftercare, more like Heith ALL the care.

It was about a week ago when Keith received a small cut on a mission. The droid’s blade had hit him on his hip, right above where his thigh plate stopped. 

 

It wasn’t anything to worry about. He doubted he needed to get it checked out. It’s not like he really wanted to get it looked at anyways. Given it’s position, he’d have to undress to his underwear for it to be properly accessible. And there was no way Keith was going to strip down in front of  _ Coran _ of all people. 

 

So, Keith dealt with it himself. Upon returning to his room, he cleaned it at his bathroom sink, taped some gauze over the top, and promptly forgot about it. 

 

It was just a small cut anyways. 

 

It wasn’t until a few days later that Keith started feeling bad. Real bad.

 

Keith woke up, a stifling sweat coating his entire body. He wanted to throw the covers off of him and onto the floor, maybe jump out of bed and take a refreshing shower, but he couldn’t. Every attempt to move was sluggish, leaving him aching. He’d been sore ever since their most recent mission, but this? This was worse. 

 

Keith eventually managed to roll himself out of bed, staggering over to his closet to get ready for the day. They had a meeting planned right after breakfast, and Keith was dreading making it so early. All he wanted to do now was sleep and let his body rest and fight whatever this issue was.

 

But he couldn’t just skip. Keith groaned, remembering that as the leader of the paladins, he had a standard to keep to. He couldn’t just skip class like he did all through elementary and middle school. He couldn’t just turn his discomfort into anger directed at his peers like he did as a Garrison student. He’d have to bite his tongue and get on with the day.

 

Breakfast wasn’t easy.

 

Keith sat at the table, staring out at his plate of food, uncomfortable. As much as he appreciated being able to eat Earth food again over food goo, something about this morning’s meal had his stomach churning with nausea. 

 

Keith did his best to not glare away his teammates’ stares, concerned as to why he wasn’t eating. But he couldn’t ignore the distressing heat that continued to bubble through his body, pressing tight into his chest.

 

He promised himself the pain would pass. 

 

It didn’t.

 

At the meeting, Keith found himself straining to keep focus, struggling to keep up with the speech he was supposed to be giving. He awkwardly tugged at his shirt’s collar, discreetly trying to relieve himself of the fever as it racked its way through his body. 

 

He sat down, grateful to finally turn over the role of speaking to someone else. 

 

He didn’t hear anything else that was said.

 

* * *

 

Hunk caught sight of Keith’s discomfort the second he was late to breakfast. 

 

He continued watching him throughout the morning, keeping an eye on this teammate’s condition. All Hunk knew was that Keith didn’t look healthy - and it seemed to be getting worse. 

 

During the meeting, Hunk couldn’t help but notice the way sweat beaded on Keith’s forehead, the way he tried to hide how he was stumbling on his words. Hunk knew these weren’t at all signs that Keith was nervous - Keith had never been nervous before during these debriefings. There had to be something else at play.

 

As the meeting went on, even as Keith sat relatively still, Hunk kept watch, concern for his teammate slowly filling him to the brim.

 

The rise and fall of Keith’s chest was beginning to quicken at an alarming rate. Hunk was desperate to call out and do something as Keith heaved alone in his chair. 

 

But Hunk kept to himself. 

 

After spending years together, Hunk always seemed to know Keith better than he expected. And here, he could see how hard Keith was working to keep his composure, to keep his face, amongst the Garrison heads. As much as Hunk wanted to deal with the problem sooner rather than later, he knew Keith wouldn’t be very impressed if he pointed out a weakness in front of the others. As much as Hunk disapproved of this slightly self-destructive habit, he owed it to him to respect his wishes in this moment. 

 

Hunk was sure he’d somehow have a talk about it with him later. 

 

The meeting slowly ended, and Keith got up from his chair with effort, making his way out of the room, breathing uncharacteristically heavy. Hunk followed a few paces behind, not wanting to stifle his teammate, but wanting to make sure he was okay. 

 

“Keith!” Hunk called out as cheerfully and casually as he could, trotting forward to meet Keith at his side.

 

“I’m fine.” Keith immediately pushed out. He must’ve caught on to Hunk’s watchful eye. 

 

“You sure, buddy?” Hunk started, “you don’t seem fine-”

 

He was cut off by Keith doubling over, pressing his weight against the wall of the hallway. Keith threw his head forward, coughing harshly as his stomach tried to empty itself. He slowly lowered himself, sliding down the wall into a crouch, his body violently trying to puke but nothing coming up.

 

Hunk quickly went to Keith’s side, placing a firm hand against Keith’s back. Hunk didn’t want to think about the heat he could feel radiating off of him.

 

“Do you want to go to the infirmary?”

 

“No,” Keith did his best to spit out.

 

Hunk returned a concerned face at Keith’s rejection.

 

“I probably caught the flu or something,” Keith muttered painfully, backtracking. “I’ll… I’ll rest, okay?”

 

Hunk smiled. At least Keith was open to doing something to help himself feel better. 

 

So, Hunk helped Keith to his room, Keith seemingly reluctant to have his friend tag along. 

 

Keith struggled, fighting back something as they walked back to the residence wing. It made itself clear the second he stepped through the door to his room. He collapsed to the floor once again, ready to start heaving. His whole body jolted with every breath. Hunk bit back the tears triggered by his friend’s agony.

 

Hunk bent over to Keith’s side, gently placing a hand under each arm. “Let’s at least get you to the bathroom, okay?” 

 

Keith let out a whimper in acknowledgement, and allowed Hunk to lift him back to standing. Hunk held almost all of Keith’s weight as they walked over the room’s connected bathroom.

 

Keith’s breathing was quickly becoming more violent the more he exerted himself, and Hunk was glad when he was able to deposit Keith on the ground in front of an open toilet bowl. The cold tile of the bathroom wasn’t very comfortable, but Hunk supposed that sitting anywhere would be better for Keith’s condition than walking. The cool temperature might even help his fever a bit. 

 

In his new spot, Keith ducked his head over the porcelain bowl, hacking up as much as he could, his stomach painfully contracting each time that nothing came up. He quickly finished, his stomach finally accepting that it had nothing to give. At this, Keith slumped back against the wall, breathing heavily, exhausted.

 

Hunk scooted over to him, after collecting a wet cloth from the sink, and pressed it against Keith’s flushed red forehead. Keith gently pushed into the feeling, grateful for its cooling nature. With this close contact, Hunk almost believed he could feel Keith’s heavy pulse beating under his skin. What was certainly real, was the way Keith panted, his breathing much to fast.

 

Keith shifted uncomfortably, his stuffy Garrison uniform becoming too tight for his condition. Hunk took the cue and took away the wet cloth, beginning to carefully unbutton Keith’s shirt. Keith gratefully worked with him, twisting his body slowly to allow Hunk to pull it off his arms. Keith then moved to try and unbutton his stiff black pants, fumbling through his unsteady fingers. Hunk helped him pull them off, trying not to blush, until Keith was left in just his undershirt and boxers. 

 

Hunk caught a glimpse of something, hidden on Keith’s thigh, peeking out from under the leg of his boxers. Hunk’s heart caught in his throat. It was a bandage, the surrounding skin flushed an angry red.

 

“Keith? What’s this?” Hunk looked up into Keith’s eyes, wanting answers. 

 

“...What?” Keith slurred.

 

Hunk moved his hand towards the covered injury, hoping it wasn’t what he suspected. 

 

“May I?” Hunk so desperately wanted to help his friend, but he knew how Keith was when it came to touch. He hoped he wasn’t about to cross any lines. 

 

Keith slowly moved his head, glancing over to where Hunk’s hands were hovering. Keith took another deep breath in, before giving his head a little nod. 

 

Hunk sent Keith a small, sad smile, and got to work. He pushed away some of the fabric from Keith’s pants, revealing the entire gauze pad. Hunk then began to carefully peel back the medical tape that held it in place. Keith hissed, the slightest bit of pressure on the wound sending him into agony.

 

Hunk’s stomach would’ve emptied it’s own contents if he didn’t force himself to keep it together. 

 

His suspicions were correct. A short gash sat on Keith’s hip. It didn’t look healed in the slightest. Unnaturally colored pus filled it’s opening. And of course, the whole area around it was painted a horrific red. It was certainly infected. 

 

Hunk felt as the boy next to him began to shudder a bit more violently, registering what was actually going on. By no means did he have the flu. 

 

“I’m going to get you some help.” Hunk stood up, knowing that there was a call box by the door of every room. 

 

He didn’t get very far though. 

 

Keith whimpered pitifully after him, not wanting at all to be left alone in his current agony.

 

Hunk turned back around, meeting Keith on the floor once again. As Hunk took in Keith’s sorry state another time, he felt tears fill his eyes.

 

“You gotta stop doing this to yourself…” Hunk spoke quietly, not sure to who. 

 

Keith twitched as he sat under Hunk’s touch, his chest rising and falling greatly as Hunk decided on his next move. 

 

“Do you think we can lie you down?”

 

Keith grumbled something inaudibly. Hunk took it as his okay to go.

 

He once again latched an arm around Keith’s back, but this time, his other hooked under Keith’s knees. With one big hoist up, and a whimper from Keith, Hunk carried him bridal style before laying him down on his bed. From here, he’d be able to stay in eye shot as he went to call for help.

 

Keith stopped him from going another time, gripping on loosely to Hunk’s shirt. 

 

“Hey buddy,” Hunk crooned, “You gotta let me call for help.”

 

“No…” Keith grunted in return.

 

“Why not?” Hunk asked while letting his hand float up to Keith’s face, wiping away his sweat soaked bangs. His hand then trailed down to Keith’s neck, feeling for his pulse. It was way too fast. 

 

“It’s…” Keith struggled, weak, “embarrassing.” His words were barely even a whisper. 

 

Hunk returned to stroke Keith’s forehead for a moment, unsure of what to say. If anyone knew what it was like to be embarrassed, it was surely Hunk. But none of his experiences could quite relate to this - putting yourself through so much pain just because of the fear of a single emotion.

 

“It’ll be alright.” Hunk finally let his words run. “It’ll just be Coran, and maybe Shiro. And me. No one’s gonna look at you any differently because of this. Just please let us help you.”

 

Keith soon nodded against Hunk’s hand, and Hunk found himself sighing with relief. 

 

While making sure to send continuing glances in Keith’s direction, Hunk quickly made his way over to the call box, so that Keith would finally be okay.


	9. Stomach Flu with Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the amazing glow--squid on Tumblr:  
> "Can you write stomach flu with Shiro and the team has to take care of him for once?"

Shiro found himself gagging over the toilet bowl for the fourth time that night. He could feel himself shaking as as he attempted to hold himself up over it, the nausea still persisting. 

 

He wasn’t even sure if he’d been able to sleep at all yet that night. 

 

After what felt like much too long, the horribly familiar feeling of bile rising from his stomach returned once again. His stomach convulsed, following his body’s urges to remove what was left of its contents. 

 

It wasn’t much.

 

Shiro coughed and spluttered in pain as watered down stomach fluid passed out of his mouth. Tears began to mingle with the sweat on his face. He felt horrible. And that was putting it lightly.

 

Shiro reached out a shaky hand to flush away the vomit, along with its bitter scent. He then dropped down the toilet seat, allowing himself to lean over it in exhaustion. His whole body was trembling from the exertion, and he needed to find the time to breathe before getting back up again.

 

He was certain he’d caught some kind of bug. From where, he wasn’t sure. All of the crew onboard the Atlas were screened to make sure they were healthy before they started the mission. It wasn’t to say that bringing illnesses from Earth wasn’t still entirely possible, it was just a little less than likely. So, that left the other option of him picking it up on one of the planets they visited. 

 

The caused didn’t matter in this moment though. What mattered was that the captain of the Atlas was ill. 

 

Shiro continued to curse at himself silently over the matter. He couldn’t let his crew - his team - down. And what would they think seeing him like this? The supposedly strong former leader of Voltron brought to tears over a little stomach bug?

 

Shiro tried his best to shake those thoughts out of his brain, a newfound determination rushing through his system. He was going to go to sleep and get the rest he needed. He’d feel better in the morning, and be back on the bridge like nothing ever happened. 

 

As Shiro pushed himself to stand, a new wave of nausea flooded over him, bringing him back down to his knees. The toilet seat was flung back open as Shiro begun to dry heave, the retching causing his stomach to contract agonizingly. 

 

Fresh tears began to roll down his cheeks, this time flowing with much more vigor. 

 

How was he supposed to be there for his team in this state?

 

* * *

  
  


Keith nervously punched a number in on the keypad to Shiro’s room. Pidge, Lance, and Hunk were waiting close behind. 

 

Shiro hadn’t shown up to breakfast that morning. That wasn’t like him at all. Keith knew how much Shiro liked to force himself to be an early bird, as much as he appreciated to sleep in when he could. To skip breakfast, especially when there was work to be done in the day ahead, was against Shiro’s very nature. 

 

An air of worry buzzed throughout the group. Even Iverson was full of a mixture of frustration and worry, pestering the paladins for Shiro’s whereabouts. And it was justified. They were fighting a war, and their captain was needed for the day to function smoothly. 

 

The paladins all couldn’t help but feel, though, that something wasn’t quite right. 

 

The door slid open with a swoosh, revealing the small living area of Shiro’s suite. The lights were all off and it was strangely cold, indicating that no one had moved through the space this morning. 

 

Keith went slightly ahead of the others, his feet taking him straight over to the bedroom door. It was already open a crack, and as Keith lightly knocked, it pushed open further. 

 

“Shiro? You in here?” Keith called out, his eyes not quite adjusted yet to the dim light. 

 

A small groan from a figure bundled in a heavy blanket welcomed them into the room.

 

“Shiro, are you alright? You missed breakfast,” Pidge spoke out as she approached Shiro’s bedside along with Keith and the others. 

 

At Pidge’s statement, Shiro groggily rolled over in bed to view the small clock on his bedside table.

 

“ _ Shit,”  _ he muttered, rolling back onto his back.

 

“No dude,” Lance spoke as he made his way to the other side of the bed with Hunk, “Don’t worry about it. You’re clearly not feeling well.”

 

Even in the dimly lit room, Lance still noticed the flushed tone to Shiro’s skin, and how his chest rose sharply with each uneven breath.

 

Keith seemed to notice this too, as he gingerly brought the back of his hand up to Shiro’s forehead. 

 

“You’re definitely sick,” Keith’s face pulled into a small frown. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“It came on overnight,” Shiro’s reply was hushed. “I couldn’t sleep, and now I’ve overslept… It’s… I’ll be fine. I need to get going.”

 

Shiro moved to sit himself up, but Hunk was at his side in an instant, keeping him from getting out of bed.

 

“Nuh-uh. What you need is rest.” Hunk applied gentle pressure to Shiro’s shoulder, coaxing him to lean back down against his pillows.

 

Shiro tried to protest. “But the-”

 

“The Atlas can survive a day or two without its captain,” Hunk spoke with confidence. “Why don’t you tell us how you’re feeling so we can help you out?”

 

Shiro glanced around through his tired haze, making eye contact with each of his friends. From their comforting gazes, he knew that they weren’t going to let him go anywhere. He’d have to give in.

 

Shiro felt himself sink back into the mattress a bit as he lightly described his late night illness, leading into how he was currently feeling. The nausea had subsided slightly since finally getting some sleep, but it wasn’t gone entirely. His head was throbbing intensely, and his body ached all over. Part of him also fought every word that exited his mouth. He was willingly describing his weaknesses to his team, his friends, and he didn’t really like it. As much as he trusted and loved them, he couldn’t stand being a burden. Not like this. Not after he’d already caused them so much grief over their previous adventures. But he kept himself closed lipped to any and all negative thoughts, keeping his words to the facts. How he was physically feeling. He could do that. 

 

A seemingly out-of-the-blue question from Lance brought Shiro out of his slight trance.

 

“Do we have any gatorade on the ship?” Lance’s question was directed at Hunk.

 

“I’m not sure, why?” Hunk replied.

 

“He’s probably dehydrated after throwing up so many times. Gatorade works magic for stuff like that.” 

 

“I’m sure we’ve got something like it.” Hunk sent a soft smile over to Shiro before he headed towards the door. “I’ll go take a look. Be right back.”

 

“I can go fetch Coran,” Pidge piped up, “I’m sure he’s got some kind of funky medicine to make you feel better.”

 

Keith smiled fondly at Pidge, answering in Shiro’s place. “That’d be great, Pidge. Thank you.” 

 

Pidge went out the door after Hunk, leaving just Lance and Keith to watch over Shiro.

 

Keith moved to sit on the edge of the bed, gently running his fingers comfortingly through Shiro’s short locks. Keith couldn’t help but notice that his skin was rather dry - not what you’d expect from someone who was expelling as much body heat as Shiro was. Lance was right. He must be dehydrated.

 

Shiro’s eyes fell closed as he began to relax once again, Keith’s delicate touch providing a distraction from his throbbing headache, his care keeping him from worrying about his absence as captain.

 

Lance found himself standing awkwardly in the room, not sure how to make use of himself. He couldn’t help but let his eyes fall over the scene in front of him. It wasn’t everyday that he saw the usually stoic Keith showing such an outpouring of affection and care. With everything that had happened, it was easy to forget how close Keith and Shiro truly were. Despite not being related by blood, they were the closest family each other had.

 

Lance quickly found himself back in the moment, terribly aware of his own presence in the room. A sight of an empty glass on Shiro’s bedside table gave him an idea. 

 

Lance quietly made his way around the bed to grab the glass. Keith watched his movements, not needing to ask what he was doing. It was clear the second Lance reached out to grab the container. He softly made his way out of the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He reached out, turning on the faucet, and filled up the glass. It didn’t matter that it was sink water - all the water in the Atlas came from the same source, meaning it was all perfect to drink no matter where you got it from.

 

As Lance returned to the room with the glass of water in hand, he found that Keith had just finished getting Shiro to sit up, propping his back up against the wall with his pillow. Lance nearly felt like he was intruding on something, but as Keith turned his body to welcome Lance back into the room, that feeling immediately faded. Lance couldn’t help but give a small awkward grin, feeling the outpouring of care that currently filled the room. 

 

“Just to get something in him while we wait for Hunk to get back.” Lance gestured to the glass in his hand, explaining himself away, despite the lack of need to. 

 

Lance moved to sit at the end of the bed by Shiro’s feet, before reaching over and handing him the glass.

 

Shiro stared at the water for a few long moments, scared that his stomach would try to empty itself at the sheer thought of drying to drink something. 

 

“Come on, Shiro.” Keith persuaded as he noticed Shiro’s hesitancy. 

 

At Keith’s words, Shiro put in a great effort to raise the glass up to his lips, despite being reluctant to, but he was stopped as two figures entered the room. 

 

“I heard you weren’t feeling well,” the unmistakable sound of Coran’s voice filled Shiro’s ears. 

 

“We think he’s caught a stomach bug,” Keith filled in.

 

“A stomach… bug?” Coran’s bewilderment was clear in his voice. “Like one of your Earth roaches?”

 

Even Shiro was able to let out the tiniest laugh at Coran’s misunderstanding. 

 

“It’s a bug, as in a virus,” Pidge cleared up as she made her way to stand at the foot of the bed, next to where Lance was sitting. 

 

Coran nodded in comprehension, then moved over to Shiro’s side, Keith shifting from his spot to accommodate him. 

 

As Coran went about using a small device to scan Shiro in order to get a more indepth diagnosis, Pidge leaned in to speak to Lance. 

 

“By the way,” Pidge started, “I ran into Iverson and Sam on the way to find Coran.”

 

“Yeah?” Lance looked her way, taking his attention off of Shiro and giving it to Pidge.

 

“I let them know then, so now we don’t need to worry about alerting anyone anymore.” Pidge gave a small smile. “Iverson did look hella stressed though.”

 

“Fair enough,” Lance shrugged with his own soft smile.

 

Keith, overhearing Pidge and Lance’s light conversation, turned to Shiro. “You hear that, Shiro? You get to stay in bed all day.”

 

Shiro groaned in response to show his lack of enthusiasm. 

 

The feeling of being a burden still floated around at the back of Shiro’s mind. He wanted so desperately to be reliable, to be able to do his job. He wasn’t impressed about having to be off duty. And honestly? He still felt awful. Nothing about this day off could be fun. A continuing comforting vibe washed over him though, keeping those thoughts from traveling beyond just the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but recognize his friends’ care, and that they were here to make it all better. 

 

Coran quickly finished his tests, and went off to collect whatever treatment he deemed necessary. Not too long after, Hunk finally returned with a plastic bottle in his hand. 

 

Hunk seemed a bit rushed, and almost out of breath. “You have no idea how difficult it is to find an energy drink in this place. I had to dig through the entire kitchen supply hold to find this.”

 

Keith reached over to take the glass of water from Shiro, so Hunk could replace it in his hands with the energy drink. 

 

“Thank you, Hunk.” Shiro cautiously brought the bottle to his mouth, taking the tiniest of sips. His stomach churned at the action, but it didn’t stop the fruity drink from tasting incredible, the dehydration and lack of calories in his system enhancing the flavor. 

 

“Actually,” Shiro began to repeat himself, “thank you, all of you.” 

 

While the fever probably had something to do with it, Shiro felt a warmth envelope his body that hit him in the heart. He realized that it didn’t take much to see that he wasn’t a burden, and never would be. Everyone’s comforting faces were enough to tell him that. 

 

They would always be there for him, just as he would always be there for them.


	10. Black Eye with Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unfortunately-i-love-it on tumblr requested:
> 
> "Can you do Black Eye with Lance and the Shiro clone"

“Lance.”

 

Lance’s body stuttered to a stop as his name hung cold in the air. It was an ultimatum. He already knew he’d blown it. 

 

He’d failed to keep up with the rest of the team once again. His hand slipped, he missed just enough on that one shot, and it’d cost them so much… They nearly didn’t make it out.

 

Lance watched almost unconsciously as the rest of the team filed out of the hanger and into the hallway, off to get changed, cleaned up, and to relax after the hard battle. Lance wanted so badly to stroll off with them. He wanted to stand under a hot shower, letting the water wash away all of his stress and anxieties. He’d then join everyone for dinner, and they’d chat, and laugh, and suddenly his mistake wouldn’t matter anymore. Everyone was okay and that was all he would care about. His mistake might come up in training in a few days time, but that would be it. Only for the purpose of getting better. Lance longed for the days when his own intrusive thoughts were the only things that spoke badly about him for messing up.

 

The dynamic had shifted these days though. Now, Shiro liked to be timely with his lectures.

 

“Lance,” Shiro repeated once the rest of the team were far enough away.

 

Lance spun on his heels, helmet tucked under his arm, sporting his habitual grin. “What’s up?”

 

“Lance.” He needn’t say more. His tone sunk deep under Lance’s skin, reminding him that he knew exactly what was up. 

 

Lance could only feel himself shrink where he stood. He focused on his toes, not wanting to see Shiro’s face, not wanting to see the face of someone he considered his hero looking so disappointed in him. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance apologized. He kept his tone dull, trying to diffuse and end the conversation as quickly as he could. It reminded him of when he’d get in trouble as a kid, wanting to hide away from his mother’s berating. “I’ll drill shots like that in training tomorrow.”

 

“Will it be enough?”

 

Lance’s head snapped to look up, the change in Shiro’s tone frightening him. It scarily familiar, but still so knew. Shiro was normally so big-hearted. He’d only heard this kind of tone since they’d found him, drifting alone through space.

 

Shiro continued, leaving Lance in a trance. “You keep saying you’ll do better, train harder, but you keep slipping up. Are you really trying?”

 

Lance tried to defend himself. “I-”

 

Shiro didn’t give him a chance. “Don’t lie to me Lance. It’s almost like you don’t want to be on the team anymore. After all the complaining you do, and going out of your way to disagree with me, you still think I’m going to let things like this slide?”

 

The words hit hard. Yes, Lance had protested against a few of Shiro’s plans recently. They were amongst the list of times when Shiro had outbursts directed towards him. 

 

A small part of Lance really wanted to speak up, to tell Shiro that he wasn’t thinking straight. To tell him that he  _ was _ doing his best, that he wanted to be on the team. But that part of him wouldn’t see the light of day. He bit his tongue. It was Shiro here that he was dealing with. Shiro who he adored and idolized. He never wanted to be on Shiro’s bad side. So, he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Shiro had been under a lot of extra stress lately. Or maybe it was one of his migraines that he’d been having recently. Yeah, that’s it. Lance could latch onto the idea that it was just a headache making Shiro grumpy and not himself. 

 

Shiro’s next words would pull him away from that thought.

 

“It’s almost as if you don’t care about us.” His voice dripped like an icicle stabbed in a wound. “You don’t really care about this team, do you. Your friends? Your family?”

 

Lance saw red. 

 

“Shut up.” Lance spat out without inhibition. “SHUT UP!”

 

Shiro didn’t appreciate that. “You don’t speak to me like that,” he raged. “I’m the team leader here. You don’t tell me what to do.”

 

“I SAID, SHUT UP!” Lance was ready to turn and run from the room, but he was stopped by the sensation of something slamming into his face, crushing into his left eye and cheek.  

 

It was a fist made of metal, cold, hard, and bruising.

 

Lance stumbled backwards on his feet, partially from the impact, partially from his own personal shock. He stared back at Shiro, his eyes wide like a deer’s. Shiro’s own expression wasn’t much different. 

 

“Lance… I’m-” Shiro stammered, stunned at his own actions.

 

“For the record,” Lance started, weaponizing each word as much as he could, despite his weakened emotions, “I love you guys. I love all of you.” 

 

With that, Lance cautiously backed up, breaking into a run when he saw that Shiro wasn’t going to chase him, and exited the hanger, going to the safety of his room as fast as he could. 

 

Shiro was left alone.

 

“Lance, I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

  
  


Lance thought it might’ve been the longest shower he’d ever taken. He didn’t care though. He’d run the castle clean of its water supplies if he wanted to. No amount of scalding water pelting on his back could seem to wash away the doubt and hatred and fear he currently felt rushing through his system.

 

His eye hurt more than it should, due to the person who dealt the blow. Each movement of his facial muscles caused the injury to twinge and sting. He was sure it was bruising over. He didn’t want to look at it to check though. He knew enough of what it looked like - it was a physical manifestation of his bruised emotions after all.

 

A shiver spun through Lance’s body as he finally forced himself to turn off the water and step out of the shower. He quickly wrapped himself up in a fluffy Altean towel, replacing his armor after losing the one of hot water. He clenched his teeth as he went through the motions of drying and getting dressed.  _ It’ll pass _ , he told himself. It had to.

 

As the steam slowly subsided and the mirror became clear again, as much as he didn’t want to, Lance could finally see it. A rich purple color was beginning to settle high on his cheek. 

 

Lance nearly choked on his breath, trying hard to keep himself from thinking of why that bruise was there, why the person he idolized did such a thing.

 

Lance tore from the bathroom, away from the mirror. He didn’t want to look at it any longer. He didn’t want to think about it any longer. He was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers leaving the rest of his clothes behind, but that was fine. Lance wasn’t planning on leaving his room again tonight. 

 

He sulked over to his bed and collapsed down on it, quickly starting to lose his fight with his emotions. The Shiro he used to know would never have done something like that. He knew it. After all, this was war. War could change a person, especially when you’ve been a prisoner of one. Twice. 

 

Lance felt himself tearing apart at the seams as he struggled to hide under the duvet. There was nothing in him that could blame Shiro. Because, after all, it was Shiro. Incredible, brave, reliable, and fair Shiro. He was their leader, and Lance trusted him and looked up to him wholeheartedly. For him to act in such a way, it couldn’t have been his own choice.

 

Lance’s brain clicked dangerously. Any logic left in Lance’s emotional mind faded away as he came to his realization: It had to be his own fault. He’d let Shiro down time and time again, when he was supposed to be his right hand man. He was supposed to support Shiro. He was supposed to support the team. He’d done exactly the opposite. The tears that had been collecting just behind his eyes began to flow out with a choked sob. He really had failed him. He admired Shiro so much, and now…

 

Shiro must hate him.

 

* * *

  
Hunk rapped gently on he door to Lance’s room. “Lance? You in there buddy?”

 

Hunk patiently waited for a reply before pressing the button to slide the door open.

 

“Lance?” Hunk called out as he carefully crept into the room, shutting the door behind him. “You missed dinner. Is everything alright?”

 

Despite the lights in the room still being on, Lance was bundled up in bed. He had been asleep, but as Hunk approached him, he began to stir. 

 

“It’s not too late if you still want to get something to eat,” Hunk offered as he went to sit on the edge of Lance’s bed. 

 

Lance, barely awake, rolled over to look at Hunk. He squinted his eyes in mild confusion, his processing still slow with sleepiness. He couldn’t help but wince though as a dull pain was felt at the scrunching of his muscles. 

 

“Oh gosh,” Hunk exclaimed at the sight of Lance’s shiner. In the hour or so that Lance had slept, it had puffed up in a brilliant red and purple, the epitome of bruises. Hunk gently reached his hand out, cupping Lance’s cheek right below the bruise. “Lance, what happened?”

 

Lance grumbled something unintelligible in response. Hunk, his concern for his friend fueling his actions, didn’t let that stop him. 

 

“I’m gonna go grab you some ice, okay?” Hunk stood up, and headed towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Hunk was gone and back again in only moments, now equipped with a bag of ice wrapped in a small hand towel. In the meantime, Lance had woken up more, sitting up, and hesitantly waiting for Hunk’s return.

 

Hunk sat down on the edge of the bed once again, and lightly held the ice pack up to Lance’s face. Lance lightly shuddered at the cold sensation, but quickly grew accustomed to it, even leaning into the feeling. Between the pulsing bruise and the pounding headache he’d developed while he was asleep, the coolness of the ice was welcomed. 

 

“Lance, what happened?” Hunk eventually broke the silence that had fallen between the two boys.

 

Lance felt his throat lock up. He was sure his face had also probably returned to its deer-in-headlights state. He couldn’t tell Hunk. He couldn’t tell anyone. Lance had to force his quick-witted brain into action.

 

“I slipped,” Lance hoped that his voice sounded confident enough, “in the shower.”

 

“Did you hit your face on the knob?”

 

Lance nearly sighed in relief at Hunk’s addition. “Yeah.” He didn’t have to think up the rest of the details. 

 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Hunk pressed the ice pack a little more firmly into the injury. “This looks like it hurts.”

 

“I…” Lance’s body trembled on its own, a sign that a wave of emotions was getting ready to break free.

 

“Hey.” Hunk put the ice pack to the side for a moment before returning to Lance, and placing strong hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

 

Caught raw and exposed by Hunk, there was now nothing stopping Lance from crying. Hunk pulled him into a warm and tight hug as his body quivered with the tears. He gently adjusted Lance’s head against his shoulder, making sure that he didn’t irritate his injury. 

 

No more questions asked. Just necessary love. 

 

“You’re alright, Lance. Everything’s going to be okay.”

 

Classic Hunk. Always so observant and full of empathy. 

 

He could probably sense Lance’s distress from a mile away. But if he could tell that Lance’s pain was from more than just a bruised face, he didn’t let on. If he noticed old tear tracks that stained Lance’s face prior to his arrival, he didn’t say. If he didn’t believe that Lance had slipped in the shower, he still accepted it without question. Because while he was concerned for his best friend, now wasn’t the time. 

 

Lance nuzzled closer into Hunk’s neck, unconsciously grateful for the silence he allowed. Lance felt he never wanted to leave Hunk’s warmth - it was an armor unlike anything else. It protected him from all his fears and doubts. It protected him from himself. 

 

Part of Lance knew that he owed it to Hunk to tell him the truth. But he also owed it to Shiro to not. While Hunk protected Lance from himself, Lance would be the one to protect Shiro. He was his right hand man after all. Whatever was up with Shiro, Lance decided it had to be worse than his own predicament. He’d clench his teeth and get through it. He just had to. For the team. 

 

Lance found himself crying harder. He had no idea what pain could be ahead, and it scared him. 

 

Hunk held him tighter in response to his heavier gasps and tears. It let Lance know that everything was going to be okay in the end. But for now?

 

He’d appreciate Hunk’s care in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's clone makes me very sad


	11. Punctured Lung with Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picked this one out for myself!

“ _ Lance! Are you okay?” _

 

Lance could barely make out the voice on the comms, but it was no doubt Keith, their dutiful leader.

 

Lance wanted so badly to reply, to tell Keith that he thought he might be in a bit of trouble. That he’d just had a direct, head-on hit, causing him to slam forward into the dashboard. He wanted to be able to tell him about his horribly bruised chest, how he was sure that he had some broken ribs. He wanted to tell Keith that he was in a lot of pain, that he needed help. That he couldn’t breathe. 

 

His pained cough would have to do the speaking for him.

 

_ “Lance?!”  _

 

Keith continued to speak over the comms. Maybe the other paladins joined in at some point. Lance didn’t know. If he could hear them over his continual wet coughs, he was in too much pain to focus. 

 

Through his haze, Lance could tell that things were moving outside of Red’s monitor. 

 

_ You flying without me?  _ Lance thought to himself,  _ That’s a good girl… _

 

He slumped back in his seat, each breath escalating into a cough or a wheeze that caused too much pain. Something thick and wet was quickly coating the inside of his mouth and his hands, but Lance was too out of it to wonder what it was. 

 

Lance let out a groan. It was all he could really do at this point. The world was slowly blurring away, his consciousness becoming fuzzy around the edges. He wasn’t getting enough air.

 

It was a panic that came next. He scrambled to make sure his comms were on. Maybe he could even find the button to up the volume on his microphone. It didn’t matter really. He just needed to let the others know. He needed help. He needed…

 

A figure appeared at Lance’s side, and it jarred him into focus. 

 

Keith.

 

* * *

  
  


Keith had followed as soon as he noticed the red lion hurrying back to the Atlas. He hadn’t seen what had happened, but by the pained sounds coming over the comms, he knew it wasn’t good. 

 

He’d immediately ordered a retreat, followed by a message to Shiro to get a medical crew down to the hangars. 

 

And with that, Keith landed Black right next to Red, and made a dash for Lance’s lion.

 

He didn’t like what he saw.

 

“Lance?” Keith moved around the side of the pilot’s seat to see where Lance was seated, leaning back, his chest rising and falling with stilted movements. There was blood everywhere. “Lance, are you with me?”

 

Lance turned a trembling head towards Keith, struggling to hold eye contact. He was so out of it. 

 

“Kei-” Lance attempted to speak, only to be hit by a gag, followed by more violent coughing. Lance had given up trying to cover his coughs, blood now freely dribbling down his chin.

 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Keith reached over, gently running his fingers over Lance’s scalp. “Let’s try not to talk okay? Help’s gonna be here real soon.”

 

Keith watched as Lance attempted to acknowledge his words, opening his mouth to speak. Something clicked in his hazy mind though, and he stopped himself, instead just giving Keith a slow couple of blinks.

 

Keith couldn’t just sit here and wait around for the medical team to show up though. He needed to do something. Time was always of the essence. 

 

“I’m gonna move you okay?” Keith didn’t wait for Lance to respond. “It’s gonna help you breathe easier.”

 

It was a difficult maneuver, but slowly, Keith managed to get Lance out of the chair and down to the ground. Lance groaned in pain as much as his current situation allowed him to, the movement jostling his injured chest. Keith didn’t want to move him far at all because of this, but luckily, there was just enough space beside the chair for Lance to lie down on his side - which was exactly what they wanted, to keep Lance’s airways open.

 

In this new position, Lance hiccuped, a small spattering of blood ending up on the floor beside his face. The pain was intensifying with time, any adrenaline that was in his system quickly fading away. 

 

Keith felt plain lost. Lance did seem to be breathing a little more steadily while lying on his side, but each intake of air came with the crackling of fluid, and every exhale was followed by a wheeze or cough.

 

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Lance,” Keith spoke, filling the silent lion while taking Lance’s hand in his own. He rubbed a thumb over the bloodied skin. “Help will be here soon.”

 

As if he’d just summoned them, Red was suddenly alive with the sound of shoes slamming against her metal gangway. Not moments later was the cockpit alive with the energy of a medical team working to help their patient. 

 

Keith started to move away as the medical team carefully brought Lance more out into the open, to allow the others to have better access to Lance. But Lance wasn’t having any of that. 

 

Lance rolled his head slightly to make eye contact with Keith, his gaze burning with what was left of his energy. He squeezed Keith’s hand tight, but only for a few moments, as his general exhaustion won over. It didn’t need to last though. Keith got the message.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Keith crooned. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

Keith glanced up at the doctor who was kneeling closest to him, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t in the way. He’d comfort Lance as much as he could, but he couldn’t let it detriment any help he was getting. 

 

The doctor sent a small smile back before getting back to work at removing Lance’s armor. 

 

Lance’s chest, to put it lightly, looked horrible. His high speed slam into the dashboard had left him bruised and broken, a horrible purple, yellow, and red covering the area. 

 

Lance visibly squirmed in pain the second someone put the slightest amount of pressure on his chest. This movement led to another coughing fit, painting the area around him with blood. 

 

It got worse from there. 

 

Lance just couldn’t seem to stop coughing. Each cough raked his body with more pain, spurring more movement and more coughing. Panicked orders were being shouted out throughout the cockpit, working to see what they could do. Keith didn’t hear any of it though, working on comforting Lance as much as he could with the little contact he could make. He kneaded his thumb into Lance’s palm, whispering words that couldn’t have made it to anyone’s ears but his own.

 

“Hang in there, Lance. Please.”

 

An oxygen mask was soon placed over Lance’s mouth and nose, hopefully quieting his horrific breathing. 

 

Someone else was hovering over Lance’s torso with a scanner.

 

“His left inferior lobe has been punctured by a compound fracture in his ribs. He’s got a lot of blood trapped in there.”

 

“Will he make it back to the medical wing?”

 

“I’m not sure. We should- we need to drain it before we move him.”

 

All the voices were spinning in and out of focus in Keith’s mind, the movements around him all a blur. That is, until he sees a small scalpel being brought to Lance’s chest, and Lance violently jerking away in fear. 

 

“Lance!” Keith called out to him, not entirely sure what was happening himself. “Lance, it’s gonna be okay.”

 

Keith forced a nurse out of the way with his presence, repositioning himself next to Lance’s head. Lance looked back up at him with wide and wet eyes, his head shaking back and forth in panic. Droplets of blood could be seen lining the edge of his oxygen mask. 

 

Keith intertwined his fingers with Lance’s where he still held his hand, and ran his other hand through Lance’s hair. Keith wasn’t excellent with empathy, but he still hoped that the gaze he was sending down to Lance was comforting. 

 

The doctor with scalpel had by now finished cleaning a section of Lance’s skin, and was ready to make the incision. A nurse to her side held a cannula out and ready to go. 

 

At another sight of the blade, Lance began to panic more.

 

“Hey,” Keith gently nudged Lance’s head towards him. “Look at me. Deep breaths now, if you can.”

 

Keith held strong eye contact with Lance through it all, also not too keen on seeing the procedure that was happening. Lance twitched and groaned at the odd feeling of it all, too much in pain elsewhere for this small cut to affect him.

 

Everything seemed to slow down for a bit as the cannula was now inserted, draining the unwelcome blood out of Lance’s lung. Lance, while still choking a little on his inhales, seemed to almost instantly breathe easier. 

 

Keith breathed easier too.

 

* * *

  
  


After what had seemed like both forever and only seconds, Keith now found himself sitting at Lance’s bedside in the Atlas’s medical wing. Lance’s nearly bare chest was now stitched and wrapped up, rising and falling much more steadily than before. A doctor hovered nearby, jotting down vitals, and adjusting the flow of air into Lance’s oxygen mask. 

 

Lance stared up at Keith, his eyelids groggily fluttering as a gentle sedative was now flowing through his veins. And Keith sat, still dutifully holding Lance’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if any of that was vaguely medically accurate but okie dokie.  
> I had a good time anyhow~


	12. Clawing at Own Throat with Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by toribubble!
> 
> ":o for the bad things happen bingo, clawing at own throat with Keith? (and if there's a happy ending, the person comforting/saving/whatever you plan being hunk?:o if not, it's gucci too!<3)"

Keith pulled his helmet off of his head as soon as he made it down the gangway. They’d been stuck in their lions for much too long, the air growing stale and stuffy. The fresh breeze of the planet they’d landed on was greatly welcomed.

 

They had needed a pit stop for a while now. Everyone was growing antsy and needed to stretch their legs, and the lions needed a bit of recharge time. 

 

Coran wasn’t familiar with this planet in particular, but it was the first they’d come across in ages with an atmosphere. A couple of quick scans told them that the atmosphere was rich in oxygen, and the planet only seemed to be inhabited by primitive species. It would be a nice place to relax and rest a while.

 

“I’d still keep on your toes, everyone,” Coran had instructed them before landing, “while the air might be breathable, we know nothing about the planet’s plant life.”

 

They weren’t going to be doing much here. Keith thought he could take his chances.

 

With the new found freedom of having free flowing air all around him, Keith couldn’t help but sigh a bit. It was nothing like the warm dry air that radiated out of the desert rocks, often coupled with the musty smell of his father’s shack, but it still gave a sense of comfort. This breeze was much cooler, brighter, filled with a touch of humidity and crispness. It took Keith out of the confinement that was the vast nothingness of space, and put him back in nature. If nothing else, it just felt nice.

 

He was brought back to reality for a moment as he heard the others approaching from their own lions.

 

“Yeah, Coran’s found me this really cool scanner,” That was Hunk’s voice. 

 

“What’s it for?” Pidge piped in.

 

“It can tell us the general makeup and composition of objects. I was planning on trying to use it on some of the plants here, to see if anything’s safe to eat. I’m running out of supplies for us all, and those food goo rations should be left for emergencies only.”

 

Keith found himself letting out a small snort at Hunk’s words as he approached the group. The food goo back on the castle was pretty good, bland if anything. The rations in the lions though? The best word to describe those was “stale.”

 

“Hey, Keith.” Hunk smiled as they’d all finally joined each other. “I was planning on going for a walk. Stretch my legs, test out this scanner, wanna come along?”

 

Keith considered for a moment. He’d been away from the team for so long and then was thrown into a stressful situation with them all. He could do with some normal time to just catch up. Keith admittedly wasn’t the best at situations like this, but hey. What did he have to lose?

 

“I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

Keith followed Hunk, who was joyously moving from plant to plant, checking each with his handheld scanner. If it blinked green, he’d pick the fruit, leaves, or whatever else it might be, and tossed it into a bucket he’d carried along with him. As Hunk worked, he told some story from the time that Keith was gone. Keith listened without much to say in return. He just made sure that he was appreciating the company as much as he could. He’d even let himself admit that he missed this. 

 

Keith lazily held his hand out, allowing his gloved fingertips to brush against the edges of the foliage as he walked, not much different from a child trailing past a rack of clothing. Keith didn’t worry too much. Sure, he left his helmet back in the black lion, but the rest of him was still protected by his paladin armor. His suit was able to stand up against the vacuum of space. Even if he did encounter this planet’s version of a stinging nettle, it wouldn’t be able to harm him.

 

“Woah! Would you look at that!” Hunk cut off his own rambling with this exclamation.

 

Keith glanced up over to Hunk to see what his commotion was all about. Towering above Hunk was a tree that was lush with some kind of giant fruit, seemingly much to big to be held up by the vines they were attached to.

 

Keith couldn’t help but grin at the scene, delighted by Hunk’s excitement as he got to work trying to get one of the large products down from the tree. It was taking a little bit of time though, so Keith’s eyes wandered elsewhere.

 

Right next to him was a stout bush, covered with skinny, bright red flowers. Without even thinking, Keith went over to touch one. With only a single poke of a finger, the flower opened up more, sending out a small puff of what Keith assumed was pollen with it. Keith instinctively shut his mouth and held his breath, not wanting to inhale any of it, but he still felt some of it settle low on his cheek. He quickly wiped it off with his glove and thought nothing more of it. It was only pollen anyhow.

 

“Ah quiznack.”

 

Keith looked up and over to Hunk as he just spoke. “What’s up?”

 

“This fruit isn’t safe to eat. I was hoping for something like a watermelon when I saw it but… I guess not.” Hunk let out the tiniest of laughs before motioning that he was ready to continue on.

 

Keith stepped on after him, absentmindedly scratching at an itch on his neck. 

 

Their leisurely walk continued on, Hunk initiating conversation with a question or a story to tell. Keith couldn’t help but find he was starting to have difficulty concentrating on their small talk though. A burning sensation was quickly climbing through his neck, starting high under his jaw and spreading down from there. Keith knew it was better not to scratch these things, as to not irritate it further, but he found himself rubbing the uncomfortable skin anyways. It didn't matter. He was sure it was just an itch.

 

Keith continued to scratch at his neck, time flying by without him noticing. Pain blossomed around and beneath his skin whenever he stopped, so continuing to itch his skin raw was the only way to relieve the unbearable sensation. 

 

Keith tried, he was trying so hard, to focus on Hunk and the stories he was telling, wanting the pain in his neck to fade away into the background. But he had little luck in the matter. He just kept telling himself that they’d loop back to their camp soon enough - he’d find some ice to put on it and that would be that. 

 

“Keith?”

 

Keith continued to walk on after Hunk in a trance, continually distracted by his neck. He hadn’t even noticed that Hunk had stopped in his tracks.

 

“Keith.”

 

He’d just have to get through this. He was fine and all. Nothing to worry about. 

 

“Keith!?”

 

Keith was forced back to attention by a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Keith, are you okay? Whats…?” Hunk cautiously wrapped his fingers around Keith’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his neck.

 

Keith stared up at Hunk blankly for a moment, confused as to why Hunk seemed so worried. He eventually let his eyes trail down to his hand that was held in Hunk’s grasp. A dark substance had found itself caked in all the creases and crevices of the course material of his glove. Blood.

 

“What…?” Keith muttered out, only just beginning to put two and two together. The pain in his neck was beginning to burn at a new high without the lack of stimulation.

 

“Keith, what happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I… I didn’t…? It’s just an itch. I…” 

 

Keith felt the muscles contract in his held out arm, desperate to continue biting his nails into his flesh. Hunk noticed this, and kept a firm grip on his wrist.

 

Hunk swallowed deeply. He cursed inwardly to himself that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. He was too caught up in all the plant life. And now Keith was here tearing his own skin apart for whatever reason, and it didn’t look good. There was a surprising amount of blood drying along Keith’s neck and throat, and soaking into the collar of his suit. Hunk didn’t know how deep fingernails could cut, but he didn’t want to take any chances. There were some important arteries encased in one’s neck.

 

Hunk let himself take his attention off of Keith for just one moment, pulling up his scanner on his gauntlet to find the most direct route back to the others. 

 

_ Oh quiznack. _

 

Keith had unconsciously brought his free arm back up to his neck, frantically scratching away at whatever pain had been brought upon him.

 

“Keith, I know it’s hard, but you need to stop that.” Hunk directed, his voice as firm as his concern would let him be. He restrained Keith’s other arm, now holding both of his wrists firmly in his hands.

 

Keith let out a small, uncharacteristic whimper. It was taking all of his effort to try and not struggle against Hunk’s grip. He knew he shouldn’t scratch, but the pain was eating away at him.

 

Hunk knew that this couldn’t have been caused by Keith alone. “Do you have any idea as to what could’ve happened?”

 

“No? I don’t… there was this… fuck.” Keith felt a small wave of clarity as the realization dawned on him. “There were these flowers. I got some pollen on me but I thought I’d dealt with it, I thought I got it all off…”

 

“Oh Keith, you should’ve told me when it happened. You can be downright thick sometimes, you know that right?” Hunk’s loving tone overrided his words, providing their true, caring meaning.

 

Keith mumbled something unintelligible in response, the pain deep in his neck making it difficult to focus once again.

 

“C’mon,” Hunk started to lead Keith in an awkward walk, not letting go of either of his arms. “Let’s get you back to the lions. We’ll have someone find that flower and get it checked out, okay?”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith couldn’t register anything but pain, and hands all over him, trying to hold him down. 

 

It hurt, his skin crawling with the most unpleasant feeling he’d ever experienced. It burned like nothing else. He wanted to get rid of it. He wanted to make it go away. He fought against the hands holding him down. They weren’t helping. They were making it feel worse. He had to get rid of it himself. 

 

“Keith, you need to calm down!”

 

“Where’s Coran? Shouldn't he be back already?”

 

“I can’t… I can’t hold him!”

 

With a strong flick of his arm, Keith managed to break his wrist out of Pidge’s grasp. Pidge stumbled back, roughly massaging her now sore hand. 

 

“Pidge, are you alright?” Allura reached out to Pidge to check on her.

 

Hunk couldn’t give himself the time to fret over Pidge now though. He let himself be satisfied that she was in Allura’s care before focusing all his strength on Keith.  

 

The poor boy was thrashing the other hands off of hims as quickly as he could, before bringing his hand back to his already ruined flesh. He curled up around himself as much as he could, muttering in pain.

 

“Make it stop…”

 

Hunk’s heart leapt for Keith. He knew he wasn’t the best with physical contact, so this had to be torture, on top of everything else. 

 

Hunk knew he had to do something. With Shiro having only one arm, Hunk was the strongest one present, the most likely to keep Keith from hurting himself further while they waited for Coran to sort out something that could help. 

 

He moved without thinking, not wanting to linger too long on the thought of uncomfortable he might end up making Keith feel. He pulled Keith up into a seated position, pinned Keith’s arms tight against his sides, and held him in the strongest bear hug he could muster. 

 

“Keith,” Hunk whispered to the boy who was now held close against his chest, “you’ve got to hang in there for me, okay?”

 

Keith whimpered, weakly trying to force his way out of Hunk’s hold.

 

“You can do this. I know you can.” Hunk pressed his chin and lips to the top of Keith’s head, partially in comfort, partially to keep him from thrashing his head around. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

“Make it stop. Just please. Just make it stop then.”

 

“We’re trying. Coran’ll be back in just a bit. He’ll have something to help. It’ll be okay.”

 

Keith’s instincts continued to force himself to struggle as he quickly tired himself out. Hunk held him tight through it all. 

 

“Just hang in there, buddy. You’ve got this.”

 

“It hurts…” Keith’s mutter was measly.

 

“Hold on. It’ll be okay.”

 

Keith’s body thrashed out once more as a new, unexpected sensation coursed through his body. Hunk looked up to see that Allura had retrieved some ice, wrapped in a small rag, and had placed it in the crook of Keith’s neck. She held it firm in place as Keith continued to try and force it away, before he slowly calmed into the feeling.

 

“Does that help at all?” Allura asked cautiously.

 

Keith moaned lightly in response. Hunk could feel Keith’s body begin to relax in his arms. Hunk nodded up at Allura at this. He still refrained from loosening his grip though. 

 

The hairs on the back of Hunk’s neck stood on end as he heard the quick padding of boots on soil approaching him from behind. 

 

Coran.

 

* * *

 

Hunk sat next to Keith as he lay restless in his cot in the black lion.

 

Coran was able to identify what about the flower was toxic to humans, but sadly, without the vast stock of the castle’s medbay, there wasn’t too much precise work that could be done, no exact anti-poison to be had. They’d wrapped up Keith’s wound with a salve and provided him with ice. The pressure from the bandages and the ice was able to help relieve the pain a bit, enough that Keith was finally able to control his frantic itching. 

 

“Hunk?” Keith muttered out, unable to sleep.

 

“What’s up?” Hunk shifted where he sat in order to better make eye contact with his friend.

 

“...sorry.”

 

“What’re you sorry for?”

 

“For not telling you sooner.” Keith squeezed his eyes shut tight. “I thought I was fine…”

 

“That’s nothing to be sorry about-”

 

Keith cut Hunk off as he continued. “I’ve barely been back and I’ve only caused you all trouble…”

 

“What?” Hunk moved to kneel, gently grabbing Keith’s hand in his own. “Keith, no. That’s not true.”

 

“God, I still don’t know how I’m supposed to lead this team. Should’a stayed back on that space whale. Should’a stayed back in the desert. Can’t bother anybody there.”

 

“Keith…” Hunk tried desperately to keep his emotions from bottling up up over the edge. “Stop telling yourself these things. You aren’t bothering anybody. We love having you around.”

 

Keith turned his head to look Hunk in the eyes, and said something incoherently that might’ve been a simple “what?”

 

“We really missed you while you were with the Blades.”

 

“You did?”

 

“Of course. You just gotta talk to us more. We wanna hear you. We wanna see you. Whether you’ve just got a fun story to tell or your neck itches like hell. Just talk to us, please. We all love you, Keith.”

 

There was a long beat of silence before Keith found it in him to respond.

 

“Thank you, Hunk.”

 

“No worries bud. Now get some rest, okay?”

 

“Okay.”


	13. Self Surgery with Hunk/Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by wonderfulwitchythings!
> 
> "Can I request self-surgery with Hunk? If you want to include Heith in it as well I wouldn't mind one bit ;)"

The whole world felt fuzzy, fading in and out of feeling. Hunk wanted to move, wanted to roll over, open his eyes and see where he was, but everything felt so heavy - he only had a few subdued senses to tell him of his environment around him.

 

_ “Implant the tracker… _ ”

 

Hunk wasn’t too sure what he was hearing. Everything sounded distant, muffled, as if he was ten feet under water and the voices were coming from the surface.

 

_ “Let them think they can escape when they wake up…” _

 

His sense of touch was the clearest thing to him at that moment. The floor was cold, a stiff concrete that sent an ache through his unmoving body.

 

_ “They’ll lead us right to the rest of Voltron…” _

 

They? Hunk wondered who else might be with him as his hearing turned into a high pitched whine. A sharp pinch enveloped his shoulder, but he hadn’t the energy to do anything about it. He could barely even feel the pain.

 

His world faded away into nothingness once again.

 

* * *

  
  


Hunk awoke to a distinct grogginess that was unfortunately all too familiar. He’d been drugged.

 

His eyes opened to view a dimly lit room, sparse with furniture. All he could see were some low, white cabinets pushed against the wall, with what appeared to be some metal tools scattered on top. He rolled over onto his back with much effort, whatever drug he’d been forced to take still lingering in his system.

 

He could feel his armour was still on his body. He thought he could even still have his bayard with him, even though his helmet didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby. Without even being tied down, an escape should be relatively easy. But something buzzing in the back of his head was telling him that he couldn’t leave. He wasn’t sure why.

 

Hunk squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to focus his hazy mind. He could just barely remember the details from what had happened earlier that day. He’d been with some of the others, gathering intel from a newly allied planet when they heard some commotion. He and Keith had stepped outside to check it out-

 

Keith.

 

If Keith was with him then, he might be with him now.

 

Hunk forced himself to shake off whatever sleepiness was left in him, and found the strength to sit up and better look around the room.

 

Not too far off to Hunk’s right lay Keith, still appearing to be asleep.

 

“Keith?” Hunk called out, not sure if he was even expecting a response.

 

Hunk decided instead to crawl over to his teammate to check on him. Any worry was instantly washed away the second he noticed Keith’s chest slowly rising and falling. If not anything else, he was still alive. 

 

Hunk reached out a hand to Keith’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake, seeing if it would rouse the young man.

 

No luck.

 

Hunk couldn’t help but think about the drug he and Keith must’ve been given. Keith’s stature was much smaller than Hunk’s - if they’d been given the same dosage, it was clear that Keith’s body would take longer to work off the drug’s effects.

 

He forced himself to breathe. This was to be expected. It was normal. It was fine.

 

Upon removing his hand from Keith’s shoulder though, Hunk couldn’t help but notice something unusual. There was a small tear located in the fabric of Keith’s under armour, as low as it could be on his shoulder without hitting the plates.

 

A faint memory came rushing back to Hunk. Pain in his own shoulder. A voice. A mention about trackers.

 

“Quiznack,” Hunk let out, muttered under his breath. He reached a hand up to his own arm, and felt a similar rip in his own suit.

 

Hunk’s heart began to race against his own will. Even if they could potentially escape, even if someone came to rescue them, they couldn’t actually leave. Hunk wished that Keith would wake up. He was the leader. He always had ideas, as reckless as they could sometimes be. He’d find some way to disable the trackers and get them out of here.

 

But for now? Hunk was by himself. And he had to do something. 

 

Hunk stood up, wobbly on his feet, hoping that further investigating the room would bring him some ideas. He stumbled towards the cabinets and leaned up against them, the residue of drugs in his system still keeping him dizzy. 

 

He turned his attention to the tools he spotted earlier. There was something that looked like a piercing gun, a scalpel, and a few other medical appearing items that had been lazily discarded on the countertop. Hunk assumed they were what was used to implant the trackers in the first place…

 

Oh.

 

Hunk’s stomach dropped down through his feet and deep into the ground.

 

He knew what he’d have to do.

 

For now, Hunk changed his mind about wanting Keith to be awake. Keith probably wouldn’t want to be conscious to experience what might be about to happen.

 

Hunk’s stomach gurgled, nausea settling in. His knees, already weak, decided they no longer wanted to hold his weight. Hunk slid down to a crouch, his arms up and holding the edge of the cabinet for support. This was far beyond anything he’d ever wanted to do. Not to Keith. Not to himself. 

 

He pressed his forehead against the cool cabinet, willing the awful sensations to go away. He’d have to go through with this if they were to get out of this sick place anytime soon. He had to. 

 

After a deep, forced, breath, Hunk pulled himself back up to standing, still holding a chunk of his weight against the cabinets. Trying to quiet his racing mind to nothingness, he reached out a hand and picked up the small scalpel. 

 

There was no stopping his arm from shaking. 

 

He allowed himself to drop back to the safety of the ground with his tool in hand, and crawled back over to Keith. A lump formed within Hunk’s throat, choking him in the most unnatural of ways. 

 

This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

 

But he knew it had to be done.

 

Hunk set the scalpel on his own knee before pulling Keith’s limp arm into his lap. He started by guiding his trembling fingers to pull off Keith’s glove, before removing his arm plates off with it. Then, with a bit of struggle, he rolled up Keith’s sleeve until it revealed a small, scabbed over injury, the skin next to it dark where you could see the device underneath. 

 

Hunk clenched his jaw shut, breathing heavily through his nose. He had to save his own stomach issues for later. He didn’t think he’d be able to get through this otherwise. Luckily, the stress his body was under began to cause him to move on autopilot. 

 

He picked up the scalpel once more, and brought it close to where the tracker was located. He didn’t let himself think any longer before pressing it’s sharp point into Keith’s skin.

 

In that moment, Keith’s eyelids fluttered, and a small hummed groan escaped him. 

 

Hunk froze where he was, involuntarily letting out his own whine of apology. Could this be hurting Keith enough to wake him? 

 

Hunk sat frozen for a few moments more, but Keith did not shift again. Hunk’s eyes then flickered back to where the scalpel sat in his hand, cutting part ways into Keith’s shoulder. He’d need to finish.

 

One big inhale, and one big exhale had Hunk moving again, quickly sliding the scalpel in the rest of the way it needed to go. Without thinking any further, he pressed against Keith’s arm with his other hand, pushing the small metal chip out of the incision. 

 

He’d done it.

 

He felt his shoulders drop what felt like miles from where they’d risen up with tension. The tracker was out. He lowered Keith’s sleeve just a bit so the rolled up section sat right on top of the cut. Hopefully that would add enough pressure to quell the bleeding. 

 

The air of relief from being finished with this task was short lived though. Because Hunk now remembered that he’d need to do the same thing to himself.

 

He stared at the now bloodied scalpel that still sat in his fist, trying to walk through what he needed to do in his head. His armour. He should remove his armour. If not anything else, Hunk could do that. He slipped his armour down past his wrist and pulled up his sleeve, wiping of the blade with his glove as he went.

 

He let himself be distracted by Keith, who had started stirring once again. Hunk waited, watching, seeing if he’d continue. He wasn’t quite near consciousness yet, but he was definitely coming to. 

 

Hunk forced his attention back to the scalpel. The more he hesitated, the less he knew he’d be able to do it. Clenching his teeth tight, he lifted the blade up to his own freshly scabbed shoulder, and gently touched it to his skin. 

 

He felt his whole body become a few degrees warmer at the prospect of what he was about to do, the pit in his stomach creating nausea like he’d never experienced before. Hunk breathed as deep as he could as he started to apply more pressure, urging the scalpel to cut into his skin, hesitating to look. He dragged it against his arm slightly, the fresh cut stinging like nothing else. He pulled it away with a jolt, hoping that he’d done his job. He allowed himself more than a glance at his new, small, wound. 

 

It was barely deep at all. 

 

Sweat began to drip down Hunk’s forehead, and he grateful that his headband was able to keep the most of it out of the way of his eyes, which were already clouding up with tears. 

 

Keith shifted once again, this time with a groan. His eyes blinked open, and stared blankly at the scene before him for just a moment, before darting around for a second and shutting again. His eyes squeezed shut, hinting that the light might have been too much for his sleep ridden retinas. 

 

“Keith?” Hunk spoke out, hoping that his voice didn’t sound as pitiful as he thought it did.

 

Keith groaned once more and rolled onto his back, swinging an arm over his eyes.

 

“Keith, are you with me?” Hunk called to him, eager for some kind of company, some kind of comfort in this horrible situation.

 

Keith failed to reply, possibly drifting off again.

 

Hunk let out a whimper beyond his control before biting his lip in false determination. He’d do this, then get himself and Keith out of here. He could do it. He wasn’t the yellow paladin for nothing.

 

_ Deep breath,  _ he told himself.  _ One, two, three… _ With one heavy exhale, he plunged the scalpel back into this skin, this time, ensuring it was a large enough cut to be able to remove the tracker. 

 

And it was. He pressed his thumb into his skin with all the motivation he had left and slid the piece out of his arm. 

 

Hunk fell back, exhausted. He let himself lay there, on the floor, to just give himself some time to breathe. He wasn’t even sure he cared that his arm was currently bleeding. All he knew was that he’d done it, and they could now get out of here. 

 

As the anxiety and adrenaline cleared their way out of his mind, Hunk found himself searching for Yellow. She was onboard where ever they were. Their captors must’ve picked her up too when the kidnapped him and Keith. It was clear that they wanted the two of them to escape. That is, with the trackers still in their arms. 

 

“H’nk?” A slurred voice came from off to Hunk’s side.

 

Hunk turned to see Keith, eyes open, his head rolled to the side to look at Hunk. 

 

“Hey, you feeling alright?” Hunk questioned, moving to rid the gap between himself and his teammate.

 

Keith pursed his lips together in consideration. After a moment, he replied. “‘m heavy…”

 

“That’s alright,” Hunk sighed, trying to shake off the rest of the adrenaline that still made him tremble. “They drugged us up real well. It seems you took the brunt of it all.”

 

Keith hummed in response. 

 

Hunk moved to stand, though still ever wobbly on his feet. He took the two trackers, and tossed them randomly into one of the drawers in the cabinet. “Let’s get out of here.” He stepped back towards Keith, ready to try and get him standing.

 

“H’nk?” Keith questioned as Hunk approached.

 

“Yeah buddy?”

 

“Y’r arm…” 

 

“I’m okay.” Hunk shivered, forcing himself to believe his own words. He pulled his under armour sleeve back down before crouching down next to Keith. “Let’s get you up, okay?”

 

Hunk carefully guided Keith to sitting and then standing, and even though Hunk was holding was seemed like almost all of Keith’s weight, they were soon making their way out of the room.

 

It was painfully easy going - their captors for sure had wanted them to escape. Hunk was just glad that they made it to Yellow before anyone realized that their location and the tracker’s location didn’t actually sync up.

 

The two of them were thoroughly exhausted by the time they managed to plop down in Yellow’s cockpit. It was now that everything that was keeping Hunk from crying had faded away and tears started to freely flow down his cheeks. 

 

“Hunk?” Keith, waking up more and more with each moment that passed, made his way next to the pilot’s seat, where Hunk currently sat, moving Yellow without much thought. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“I…” Hunk wanted desperately to explain, but each time his thoughts went to doing so, his tears grew louder and heavier. He’d let Keith know exactly what happened once the event was a bit more in the past, when fear wasn’t so fresh. “We’re out of there. We’re out of there.” 

 

Keith nodded in an unsure yet understanding reply, steadying himself by reaching a hand out to the backrest on the pilot’s chair. 

 

Hunk looked up through his tears at Keith for just a moment. Physical affection was something that Hunk loved and appreciated, especially in hard times. He had trouble seeing where Keith stood with it though. But right now? Hunk really felt like he needed a hug. He needed to ask.

 

“Can I… Can I have a hug?” Hunk did his best not to hesitate. 

 

Keith paused, taken aback slightly, but eventually came to nod. He leaned forward over the pilot’s seat and gingerly wrapped his arms around Hunk. Hunk returned the hug with intense vigor. 

  
They made it through.  _ He _ made it through. 


	14. Food Poisoning with Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thefevertrop requested...  
> "Food poisoning with Lance~? (Klance maybe?) <3"
> 
> Food poisoning? Contaminated water? Same thing I guess.   
> (I had an idea and I went with it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)

The Earth still had a long way to go in it’s recovery after the Galra occupation. The garrison and its surrounding area was quickly becoming the center of all activity in the western hemisphere, but that didn’t mean it was still without its problems. As more and more people and aliens flocked in from destroyed cities, galran work camps, refugee camps, and beyond, it meant that supplies were quickly becoming short.

 

Lance was eager to help all he could. Combining his family’s farm, which resided just outside of town, with the research at the Garrison headed up by Colleen Holt, he was able to provide masses of produce for the now bustling, recovering city. With genetically modified plants and controlled environments, the crops could grow faster than ever before. The deserted outskirts of the city also made for easy expansion of the farm’s size.

 

With all of his help in the humanitarian aid of Phlatt City, it was no surprise when he was asked to oversee the digging of new wells and aqueducts, as they desperately tried to supply the place with more water. Being located in a desert (for safety in all their rocketry endeavors), the Garrison always had a majority of its water supply brought in from a remote location. Now though, it provided much difficulty.

 

Most water was dedicated for food production, and the Garrison controlled the use of the remaining water as much as they could. They even implemented a three minute maximum shower law, although there was little use in enforcing it outside of Garrison housing.

 

Lance had been highly reluctant to be directly working for the Garrison again - after the war had ended, he felt he’d had enough space related experiences for one lifetime, especially seeing as many of them left him with sadness in his gut. But he forced himself to get over his reservations, knowing that this effort was directly to help the planet he loved and everyone who lived on it.

 

And he definitely didn’t regret it as he drank his first sip of the fresh water, straight from the brand new treatment center he had helped bring into existence. Its clean taste made him feel like something was finally going right again with his life, with the world.

 

It wasn’t long though, before he was sure he’d thought too soon.

 

 

Lance had been staying in a Garrison issued dorm as construction was underway, has he had grown quickly tired to dragging back and forth between his home outside of town, and the Garrison at the center of it. It wasn’t necessarily a long journey, it was just the early mornings and late nights that made it less worth the trip each day.

 

He plopped down on his bed, feeling a little dizzy. He didn’t think much of it - it had been an especially long day, and he was quite ready to just pass out. 

 

* * *

Lance woke up in the early hours of the morning, his entire body slick with sweat. He rolled over, half thinking to get up and check the thermostat. Maybe he’d somehow accidentally left the heater on high. He never actually got up though, his body feeling heavier than ever. With a few quiet moments of nothing, Lance soon realized that he didn’t even actually feel hot - his body was shivering.

 

He groaned audibly to himself. It was clearly a fever, and now was not the time he needed to be getting sick.

 

He told himself he wanted to get up. He should get some medicine, a glass of water, anything to kick this cold before it got worse. But each time he tried to move, to sit up, his body reacted poorly. His limbs wouldn’t move quite right when he told them to, moving heavy and slow way too after the fact. The one time he tried to sit up, the whole room began to spin around him, lightheadedness creating a painful sensation in his brain, followed by intense nausea. His stomach leapt furiously, the only warning that it was going to attempt to empty its contents.

 

Lance had nowhere near enough energy to even aim off the side of the bed, let alone get to a trashcan or the bathroom.

 

The thick, foul smelling remains of his previous meals now sat down his front and lap, slowly seeping into bed sheets and pajamas. Lance felt disgusting as he attempted to lean back against his pillows. He wasn’t sure if it was the smell, or just the idea of being covered in his own sick that made him want to puke once again.

 

His stomach ached violently, keeping him and his heavy limbs from moving from the bed. He felt gross. He wanted to go clean himself up, but he was too weak to move. He rolled his head to look over at his bedside table, where his phone sat charging. Maybe he could phone someone, maybe get his mother round to help. But even that sat too far away for his heavy arms.

 

Hot tears began to roll down his face. He was humiliated, downright mortified and felt disgusting. Even if he could get himself to grab his phone, did he really want someone to come and find him like this? A former paladin of Voltron. Someone who’s supposed to be strong, now lying here prone, covered in his own sick.

 

He silently wished it was all an awful dream as his head spun and his body continued to ache.

 

* * *

 

Keith had been visiting the week of the water filtration plant’s opening, gathering any new technologies and ideas that could help with the Blade’s own efforts. Despite being horrendously busy, he still forced some time into his schedule to find and spend some time with Shiro, Pidge, and Lance, who were all still on Earth. 

 

He had actually been having a difficult time tracking down Lance, and was grateful when Pidge had informed him that he had been staying on Garrison property for the time being. 

 

It was somewhat early when Keith found himself knocking on Lance’s door, but that was quite alright. Lance had always been an early riser, so he was sure to be awake. 

 

When there was no immediate answer, no sound of movement from within, he rapped gently on the door once more, and waited. 

 

“Lance?” He called out, “Are you in there?”

 

There was still no reply.

 

Keith decided to give up on formalities, knowing that Lance often forgot to lock his door. He tried for the knob, and, sure enough, it opened with ease. 

 

As he entered the front room of the apartment, he was about to call out to let Lance know he was coming in, when he smelled something horrid. Keith almost felt the need to pull the collar of his shirt up over his nose at the rancid smell, but he stopped himself. Something was certainly wrong. 

 

“Lance?” Keith called out one more time as he cautiously stepped towards the bedroom. “Is everything alright?”

 

A tiny groan that was definitely Lance echoed out through the apartment.

 

“Lance?” Keith slowly pushed open the door to the bedroom. 

 

The sight, and  _ smell,  _ was awful.

 

Lance was hardly awake, his shirt covered in old vomit that had dripped down to the duvet that covered his legs. A visible sweat coated his forehead and cheeks, and as Keith approached, he could feel the head radiating off of him. Even so, Keith reached over and draped the back of his hand over Lance’s forehead, feeling for his temperature. He was burning.

 

“Wh...at?” Lance mumbled out at the contact.

 

“Hey Lance. It’s just me. Keith.”

 

“Keith?” Lance didn’t even open his eyes, his head lolling to the side. “But you’re s’pp’sed to be… in space?” His voice slurred slightly with each word.

 

“That’s right,” Keith hummed, “But I came to say hi to you.”

 

“But I’m… b’t I’m not in space…” Lance mumbled out.

 

Keith allowed himself to let out a huff of amusement at Lance’s confusion. He certainly wasn’t all there.

 

“You’re sick, buddy. I’m gonna help you out.”

 

“Th’nks dad.”

 

Keith shook his head at Lance, even though Lance wasn’t looking at him. Instead, Keith carefully grabbed Lance under his armpits, and moved him so he was sitting up, moving the pillows behind the small of his back as he went. 

 

Lance didn’t seem to appreciate this movement, his eyes pinching as tightly shut as they could go, another groan being let out of his system.

 

“Sorry buddy.” Keith muttered, his voice small.

 

Keith then went to peel off the soiled duvet, tossing it for now into a corner of the room. Lance began to shiver at that action. Luckily, the blanket had stopped the vomit from getting on Lance’s pajama pants, but his shirt was still covered.

 

Keith turned to the cabinets against the room’s wall, and opened a few drawers, searching for a shirt for Lance to change into. By the time Keith had found one and had turned back to Lance, Lance had finally opened his eyes, and seemed a little more aware of the world.

 

“Keith?” He muttered, “What are you doing here?”

 

Keith couldn’t help but laugh a little, seeing as Lance was essentially repeating himself.

 

“Back in the realm of the living are we?” Lance stared blankly at Keith’s comment. “I landed on Earth two days ago. Was trying to get in contact, but couldn’t find you until this morning, and you” He sat himself on the bed next to Lance’s legs, “are horribly sick.”

 

“Sorry…”

 

“I’ve no idea what you’re apologizing for, so shut up, will ‘ya?”

 

“But now you have to deal with…” Lance’s eyes flickered downwards to his covered shirt, hinting at what he meant.

 

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” Keith smiled back at Lance, and moved to grab the hem of his shirt. “Now help me out here.”

 

With effort, Lance managed to raise his arms a bit to allow Keith to pull his shirt up and over his head. 

 

Keith hesitated to dress Lance in the clean shirt though, his eyes catching something and filling with worry. Lance’s abdomen was dappled with an ugly red, a painful looking rash that started at his stomach and stretched up to his chest. Lance had caught sight of it too, and the two shared a moment of concerned eye contact. This wasn’t just any old, run of the mill illness.

 

After a paused moment, Keith finally started to help Lance into the clean shirt.

 

“Any idea what might’ve caused this?” Keith asked solemnly.

 

Lance shook his head, unsure.

 

“I’ve got a feeling we should get you to the medical wing to get checked out.”

 

Lance nodded slowly in reply.

 

“C’mon,” Keith picked himself up from where he sat on the mattress,, “You aren’t getting any better just sitting here.”

 

Keith encouraged Lance to swing his legs off the side of the bed, so he was sitting, ready to stand up. Lance groaned as he was now sitting upright, slightly compressing his sore stomach and chest. 

 

“You ready?” Keith reached out a hand, prepared to help Lance up.

 

Lance stared for a moment at Keith’s outstretched hand. He wanted to shake his head no, his stomach already threatening to flip for the second time that morning. He’d already felt weak enough though - he felt the need to prove to himself that he was stronger than that. So, Lance took in a deep breath, and forced his arm up to grip Keith’s shoulder. 

 

The second Lance tried to stand, he blacked out.

 

He was only out for a second, but it was enough time for him to collapse to the ground, Keith crouching low after him to break his fall. Not even a moment later, Lance was coughing, ready to hack up whatever remained in his stomach. 

 

“Woah, Lance.” Keith struggled to hold Lance up, keeping him off of the floor, as Lance could no longer do it himself. “Easy, easy.” 

 

Lance spluttered and convulsed, finally throwing up, only just missing Keith’s lap. As Lance finished up, Keith moved him, so instead of holding Lance up outright, the sick boy was now leaning into his shoulder.

 

At this close proximity, Keith could feel Lance’s heat to a new degree. His fever didn’t seem to be anywhere near breaking. He could feel his heartbeat as it thrummed heavy and fast against him. 

 

“No walking, huh?” Keith spoke to Lance once he was settled and as comfortable as he’d be able to be. 

 

Lance didn’t respond, remaining quiet for a moment while he lay shaking in Keith’s arms. 

 

“I’m gonna call medical here then. You’re gonna be alright.” Keith ran circles with hand across Lance’s back, hoping to alleviate any discomfort that he could. 

 

“Keith?” Lance’s voice was weak and hoarse from the acid that had made its way through his throat. “The water…”

 

“Water? I can get you some water-”

 

“No.” Lance cut him off. “The… the water… the plant…”

 

“The…?” Realization dawned slowly over Keith.  _ Oh no.  _ “You think this was caused by water you drank?”

 

Keith felt Lance nod against his shoulder, followed by a sniffle.

 

Keith wrapped his arms tightly around Lance’s back, and started to gently haul him back onto the bed. 

 

“‘S my fault…” Lance whimpered out.

 

“No it’s not.” Keith set Lance’s head down on the pillows, then quickly glanced around the room to see if there was anywhere where he would keep a clean blanket.

 

“...is… what if there’s… you have to tell them…”

 

Keith noticed a small bit of sick still lingering at the edge of Lance’s mouth. He pulled a tissue out of the box on the bedside table, and gently wiped it off of his face. 

 

“Let’s make sure that you’re okay first, alright?” Keith picked up the communicator off of the table before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He reached out and wiped Lance’s sweat stained bangs off of his forehead. “Then we can sort everything else out. Together.”

 

As Lance slowly fell into an uneasy rest under Keith’s touch, Keith dialed for the Garrison’s medical services. It wasn’t how he’d been hoping to spend his time with Lance, but he’d sort it out. For Lance.


	15. Intubation with Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by protectshiroatallcosts on tumblr!
> 
> "Could you do intubation with shiro? And the rest of the team is there too? I love when the whole team is worried about him!"
> 
> My good friend, I do agree with that above statement.

“Shiro?”

 

“Shiro!”  


Shiro didn’t register his name being called. All that mattered, even more than the pain that blossomed through his chest, was his need to get out. He couldn’t let the Galra do this to him. Not again.

 

“Shiro, please. It’s just us.”

 

“Please, calm down!”

 

He wasn’t sure how successful he was going to be, but Shiro tried to sit up, to get up, anyways. At his first attempt to move his muscles, the pain burned brighter. He might’ve cried out. His world was so hazy right now, he didn’t know. But he did know that the pressure and adrenaline in his chest was making it hard to breathe.

 

Hands were pressed into his shoulders now, holding him in place. Shiro gasped and heaved, trying to get in enough oxygen to be able to fight the Galra off.

 

“Is he having a flashback?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Shiro?”

 

“Please, listen, we’re just trying to help you.”

 

He heard the sound of crying from somewhere in the room with him. _Who else had they captured?_

 

“They’re gonna put an IV in. It’s gonna help you calm down.”

 

“You’re gonna be okay.”

 

Shiro felt hands come down on his real arm.

 

_No._

 

They couldn’t have the other one too.

 

The second Shiro felt a pin prick on his left arm, he let himself blow. He thrashed with all the strength he had left, magnified by his panic. He did the best he could in his position, yanking his arm up and out of the grasp it was held in. He then tried to force himself back up, to somehow hide his arm away and--

 

The pain was suddenly too much.

 

“Shiro?”

 

“SHIRO!”  


It was if a lightning strike had shot down through his shoulder, and ricocheted throughout his chest and lungs.

 

“Somebody do something!”

 

He couldn’t breathe.

 

His body started to convulse, desperate to take in a single gasp of air. He felt like his chest was imploding, as if without air to breathe, his lungs were deciding to breathe in themselves. He thrashed and thrashed, desperate for air, until a series of weights came over his body - strong hands, holding him still.

 

“C’mon…”

 

“Hang in there Shiro, please, hang in there.”

 

Fingers gently caressed the bottom of Shiro’s chin, lightly tilting his head back. He tensed up at first at the touch, but quickly welcomed it. Even if they might be Galra, maybe they could help him breathe again. He was too dizzy and weak to fight them off anyways.

 

“That’s it.”

 

Another hand found itself on Shiro’s forehead, a thumb soothingly massaging his temple. This certainly wasn’t the touch of a druid.

 

“We’re going to have to insert it now. We can’t wait any longer.”

 

Shiro felt the world fading away around him as he wheezed in another unsubstantial breath of air. Even the pain in his chest was dissolving away. Maybe this was it.

 

“Shiro… this is gonna be unpleasant, but hang in there. You’re going to be okay.”

 

That voice spun its way into Shiro’s head as he felt his mouth being pulled open.

 

“You’re going to be okay.”

 

The first hands moved away from his head, leaving frigidness in their place. A hand soon replaced itself in Shiro’s left though, squeezing tight.

 

“You’re going to be okay.”

 

Something foreign was shoved into Shiro’s mouth, pushing down his throat. Shiro gagged around it, desperately trying to pull away from the feeling. His abdomen spasmed, wanting to throw up from the feeling, but he was terribly unable to. He needed to scream out, but made a strangled gurgle instead. All he could do was squeeze the hand in his back as unwanted tears rolled down his face.

 

“That’s it, Shiro.”

 

“You’re doing great.”

 

“You’re going to be okay.”

 

Almost instantly, the fogginess in Shiro’s head began to clear as he felt a puff of air fill his lungs. It confused his body, breathing without actually breathing, but what did it matter anymore. He had air. He had oxygen.

 

Shiro alternated between blinking and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to force himself to get a grasp on reality before the pain set back in.

 

“You with us yet buddy?”

 

The pin prick feeling was back in his arm. Shiro felt safer now though. He didn’t feel the need to tear his arm away. If he did, he’d also lose the soothing hand in his. He didn’t want that.

 

“Hopefully he isn’t ‘with us’ for much longer. He needs his rest.”

 

“I’m just glad he’s out of danger.”

 

Something clicked in Shiro’s mind. He knew these voices. He was sure of it.

 

He felt his eyes begin to grow heavy, his veins running cold.

 

 _No_.

 

He needed to stay awake. Those voices meant safety. He trusted those voices. He needed them. He never wanted to stop hearing them.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Shiro’s mechanical breathing hitched at those words.

 

“You can rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

 

He trusted that voice. He trusted those words. As the drugs running through his veins slowly floated him into unconsciousness, Shiro easily gave in and let them.

 

“You’re going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess it's a little shorter than my other stuff on here, but I think it turned out rather nice~  
> I dunno - I just really liked this one (especially since I've had a writing slump for a while now!)
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love you all!


	16. Buried in Rubble with Hunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The amazing dandy-moongirl on tumblr requested:
> 
> "Could you do buried in rubble with Hunk please? Thank you!"

The second the rumbling erupted throughout the building, Lance instinctively dropped to the ground, his arms scrambling to cover his head and neck. It seems all those years of earthquake drills in school had payed off for something. Although, now, Lance didn’t have a desk to hide under. His armor would have to do. That didn’t stop him, though, from adopting the trained position.

 

He and Hunk had been on their way out, making their way back to their lions after their team had retrieved their desired information from this abandoned Galra base.

 

They’d nearly been too late. In recent decaphebes, the planet had been faced with increasing seismic activity, causing the Galra to evacuate, leaving a building that was unsuitable for the environment to fall into disrepair. 

 

It seemed like an easy enough information grab, the base being left with no security. They just had to be quick. By the time they’d been keyed in on the location, the building already was ready to fall over in the next couple of shakes.

 

And this time, it did.

 

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, static filling his helmet, as he tried not to focus on the feeling of rubble hitting the ground all around him. He prayed to whatever god was out there Hunk behind him had found better shelter than he had. 

 

Lance gasped in a horrified breath as a few pieces of rubble slammed into his back, smacking into his armor before tumbling onto the ground. His hands twisted into fists, preparing himself for something bigger. It never came.

 

As the shaking slowly subsided, Lance carefully allowed himself to open his eyes. He glanced up from his crouched position, but only swirling dust met his vision. Still, a sigh of relief racked through his body. By some dumb luck, he’d made it through relatively unscathed. 

 

But what about Hunk?

 

Lance didn’t trust his voice to be loud enough. The room still seemed to scream with energy of the destruction. So he tried his comms.

 

“Hunk? Can you hear me?”

 

Only an eerie static came back in reply.

 

Lance found his heart racing. His friend had to be okay.

 

“Hunk?” He paused, waiting. “Keith? Shiro? Pidge?”

 

Still, no response came through. A tiny amount of pressure in his chest released. Maybe it was just his comms that were broken. Maybe that was why no one could hear him. 

 

Lance pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, and made his way to standing, gritting his teeth as his back ached through its bruises. 

 

As he stood, the dust had finally finished settling, giving him a clearer view of the remains of the room around him. The room had been rather bare before the destruction, the entryways now blocked by the rubble. He was trapped. The walls were thin enough though, a single shot from Hunk’s blaster could easily get them out-

 

Lance’s breath left him once again, new found worry spinning through his head for his friend. Lance spun around, searching for any sign of the yellow paladin. No luck. 

 

With his comm out of commission, Lance took to shouting.

 

“Hunk?”

 

Lance scrambled back in the direction that the pair had originally came from.

 

“Hunk!?”

 

A wall of rubble was all that he was met with. 

 

“Hunk, please. Please tell me you can hear me.”

 

Lance moved frantically. Without aim, he began to scrabble against the pile, pulling down all the rocks he could, hoping to get through. 

 

Suddenly, a cough met his ears.

 

“Hunk?!”

 

“Lance?” The name sounded pained, forced, difficult to get out. 

 

Lance leaned in, pressing the forehead of his helmet to a large chunk of ceiling that had been brought down, trying to hear better. “Hunk, you gotta tell me where you are. Are you okay?”

 

“I’m… I’m alright.” Was all that Hunk sent back. His tone didn’t match his words. 

 

Lance’s heart leapt into his throat. “Hunk, are you…?”

 

“I… I don’t think so. I don’t think… I’m not pinned.” Hunk’s words were slow, slurred. 

 

Lance was back on his feet, working out how to get his friend out of there. His mind was in a million places at once.

 

“I don’t want to check… though…” Hunk continued, unprompted. “Don’t wanna move. My head hurts.”

 

Lance stopped in his tracks at those words, before rushing even faster. “That’s okay. Just keep talking to me, buddy. I’m gonna get you outta here.”

 

“Thank you, Lance.” Lance thought he could nearly hear Hunk’s smile in his words, smiling even though everything was so bad right now. 

 

Even though it was such a short distance, Lance all but sprinted to the end of the large chunk of ceiling. It was propped up, almost like a lean-to. If Lance had any luck left in the universe, he hopped it all went to ensuring that Hunk was just under there, just stuck in the little air pocket inside. He wanted so bad for Hunk’s words to be true. He hoped Hunk wasn’t lying for his sake. He just needed to get in their himself. 

 

Lance got to work, getting a bit lost in his head as he focused on shifting the wreckage.

 

One piece after another.

 

* * *

 

Lance was almost there. He could see an opening. All that stood in his way now was a particularly large piece of concrete, so he activated his jetpack, adding some extra leverage. He let out a groan as the force sent a pain through his injured back.

 

“Lance?” Hunk called out, softly, “are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance hissed, “Nothing I can’t deal with.” Lance stood for a moment after finishing moving that large rock out the way, rubbing his aching hands together, wishing he wasn’t wearing a helmet so he could wipe the sweat off of his brow. 

 

He was there. A small crawl space had opened up, and, if Lance squinted, he could see the yellow of Hunk’s armor. 

 

Down on his hands and knees Lance went, crawling under the ceiling chunk, moving towards Hunk, scared that even the lightest brush against the wreckage would bring the whole thing down.

 

“Lance?” Hunk spoke, the blue lights from Lance’s armor illuminating the space around him.

 

“Hey buddy.” Lance smiled down at Hunk. “I’m gonna have to slide you out of here. Hang in there.”

 

Hunk hummed a small acknowledgment in response.

 

Lance worked on gripping his hands under Hunk’s armpits, preparing to try and get him out of there. 

 

“Hunk, I need you to tell me immediately if anything starts hurting, okay?” Lance cursed inwardly at the lack of light, not able to tell if Hunk was actually pinned or not. But then again, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing his friend injured could take the energy out of him - Lance would need the rest of his adrenaline if he were to get his friend out of here.

 

Hunk nodded, his eyes squeezing shut as the movement caused pain to burst through his head. He groaned, causing Lance to pause in alarm.

 

“What’s up, Hunky-bear?” Lance cooed, trying to keep the clear worry out of his voice. “Talk to me.”

 

Hunk didn’t reply, keeping his eyes sealed shut.

 

Lance cursed under his breath, and brought one of his hands back up, running it gently over Hunk’s helmet. He almost immediately found a clear dent and crack through the material. Right. Hunk had said that his head hurt. 

 

“I’m gonna move you quick okay?” Lance didn’t wait for a response this time as he repositioned himself, now slowly moving backwards with Hunk in tow. He was thankful that their paladin armor was smooth, aiding him in sliding Hunk out into safety. 

 

The second they exited the crawl space, Hunk groaned once more, the new added light aggravating his head injury. He began to breathe heavily through his nose, and Lance took the hint. He quickly pulled off Hunk’s helmet, being careful not to move his head too much, allowing him to get some fresh air, and freeing his airways just in case. 

 

Nothing came up though. 

 

As Lance tried to maneuver Hunk onto his side, the yellow paladin protested, instead, shooting up into a sitting position to wrap his arms around Lance. He whimpered in pain as he did so, but didn’t care, only held Lance tighter. 

 

Lance smiled with concern at his friend, adjusting his position slightly to allow Hunk’s head to roll and rest against the crook of his neck. “Don’t move like that again,” Lance whispered, returning the embrace.

 

They’d wait a moment before painfully making their way out of the building to complete safety. For now though? This was okay. 


	17. Rope Burns with Hunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For comendobiscoito on tumblr!

Hunk always considered himself to be an easy crier. He could find himself crying at almost anything, be it happy or sad, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. There was never any weakness in showing emotion. 

 

Now though? He couldn’t manifest a single tear. 

 

Hunk waited as Lance came to sit across from him. The boys were silent as Lance gently picked up Hunk’s hand to pull it into his lap. He flipped Hunk’s hand over, caressing his fingers, encouraging them to open and reveal his palm. The skin was blistered and burned, charred without any fire to be seen. Hunk’s other hand, clenched and held close to himself, was the same.

 

It was now that Hunk was glad that his usually boisterous friend was now silent. Hunk wouldn’t know what to say in reply. 

 

Hunk winced as a damp cloth came in contact with his wound. Lance muttered the tiniest of sorries under his breath, yet continued to carefully clean the injury.

 

Hunk clenched his teeth, trying his hardest not to focus on the way his hands burned. The way his hands stung threatened to remind him of all that had just happened, of all that he had lost, of all that he had failed. Hunk squeezed his eyes shut too now, tension filling his entire body as he tried not to think, forced himself not to feel.

 

The cool cloth disappeared from his palm.

 

“Hunk, buddy,” Lance murmured, hardly above a whisper. “Breathe for me. Please.”

 

Hunk blinked his eyes open, looking back at his friend, feeling cold. He tried to focus on Lance’s own eyes of blue, but even those were hard, sad, and forlorn. They knew. He knew. 

 

And that’s why they didn’t speak. 

 

A cooling gel was lightly applied over Hunk’s palm. Lance was back to busying himself with the first aid. It was uncomfortable. He so desperately wanted to pull it back and cradle it with his other. But he didn’t allow himself. He didn’t deserve the luxury. This was nowhere near as uncomfortable as  _ they _ must be feeling right now, the family of that young child.

 

Hunk felt his entire body shiver as he sunk into himself. 

 

He could see it - feel it, the young alien’s fear-stricken face as they clenched onto the rope as a last hope for life. His sore hands remembered the way they cramped, clutching on with a strength that was no longer there. A strength that wasn’t enough to pull up the child’s sturdy body. He could smell the burn, hear the shouts, as the rope tore out of his hands. Hunk remembered the way he looked away, the way his body decided it didn’t want to feel anymore. 

 

It’s not like his body knew what to feel anyways. 

 

Hunk was drawn back to the real world by a hand on his cheek, a thumb gently brushing away something under his eye. Tears. He glanced up at Lance before his eyes flickered down to see his own hand, wrapped up and trembling. Actually, Hunk realized, his whole body was shaking.

 

Maybe he could feel something after all.

 

“It’s okay,” Lance spoke a little louder this time, an attempt at a smile on his face, despite the day’s previous events.

 

Hunk took in a big shaking breath. “It’s not.”

 

“I know it doesn’t feel okay right now,” Lance continued as he removed his hand from Hunk’s face, before slowly trading out his injured hands, “but it is. I promise.”

 

Hunk felt as more tears streamed down his face on their own. 

 

Lance got to work cleaning Hunk’s wounds once again. “You don’t have to talk about it. Not today, not tomorrow… Just, please, don’t keep it all bottled up, and I promise - we’ll make it through. You’ll make it through. You’re still the Hunk I know and love. No matter what.”


	18. Hypothermia with Keith/Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the terrific Tardisatavengerstower here on Ao3!
> 
> "Could you do hypothermia with klance, please!!!"

“Keith? Keith!”

 

Lance pulled his sleeves down, grasping the ends in his palms to cover his hands. To put it lightly, it was freezing out. They hadn’t expected the temperature on this planet to drop so drastically after nightfall. 

 

The team had split up, venturing out from their camp into the wooded landscape. They were looking for Keith.

 

He’d stormed off hours ago, due to some communication error and misunderstanding that left him frustrated and in need to cool down. No one had been worried at the time. The local inhabitants were friendly, and Keith, after all, was fully capable of looking after himself. 

 

As the air grew colder and colder, though, Shiro was quick to point out that Keith had yet to return. 

 

This drew each of the paladins out of their lions in various stages of sleepwear, out into the forest to search for their missing teammate. 

 

Lance had begrudgingly rolled out of bed, swinging his jacket on over his pajamas,slipping shoes onto his feet, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The hit of cold air as he walked down Red’s gangway though was enough of a shock to wake him up. Communicator tucked snuggly in his pocket, Lance now trekked on into the dark.

 

“Keith?” He called out again, but was met with nothing but the echoed cries of his teammates who were also calling out the same name. 

 

Lance sighed inwardly. Keith had probably just found some place to curl up and sleep, and all this worry would be for nothing. It’s not like Keith was a stranger to living in the middle of nowhere. Lance tried to convince himself that he would be fine. But then again…

 

Lance crouched down and pressed his bare palm against the dirt. He shuddered as the cool temperature met his fingers. The ground hadn’t held much heat at all. Did Keith even have his jacket on him when he ran off?

 

Lance continued on, faster now. He continued to call out Keith’s name, his head jumping left and right to search for any sign of movement he heard. Sadly, it always ended up being some alien creature not dissimilar to birds or squirrels. He would have to keep looking.

 

* * *

 

As Lance kept on with his search, he found his way to a small bank. Roots from alien trees jutted out in weird ways, the soil around them cleared away by wind and high tides. The water was low now though. It was possibly the dry season.

 

Lance clambered down the embankment without any clear aim in mind. He did notice that the way the roots were curved, some of them created what could be turned into ideal animal dens. Lance quietly hoped that maybe Keith had seen them and had the same thought. 

 

As Lance slid down closer to the water, he could feel it get noticeably colder. Wind swept up off of the river, biting into his face and hands. He was thankful he had been moving all this time, keeping his blood circulating. Lance was sure if he’d sat in one place out here, he’d be an icicle in no time. This thought didn’t do anything to ease his worry about Keith.

 

_ “Anything yet? _ ” a buzz came from Lance’s pocket.

 

He came to a stop from climbing through the roots, holding on with one hand while the other fished out his communicator. 

 

_ “I haven’t seen a thing… _ ” came a sullen Pidge.

 

_ “And it’s so quiznaking cold out here…”  _ Hunk also chimed in, his voice laced with worry.

 

Lance was ready to chime in with his own lack of input when he thought he saw something. “Wait guys - I think I see…” He tried to move along but needed two hands to hold on. The mud under his feet was too slippery and steep. Lance shoved the communicator back in his pocket. They could wait. 

 

As Lance moved further along the bank, he saw it clearly. There was a trail in the mud, as if someone had slipped, skidding down the slope. Lance stumbled across to it, careful not to fall himself. And as he got closer, there he was. Keith. Curled up in a pocket under protruding roots, sticky with mud. 

 

“Keith?”

 

Lance was quick on his feet as he made his way over to meet his teammate. He crouched next to him, feeling colder by the second.

 

“Keith, gosh, are you alright?” Lance put his hand up to Keith’s forehead, half to wipe away the mud, half to feel for his temperature. 

 

He was freezing.

 

“I fell…” Keith mumbled in reply.

 

“I can see that, dude.” Lance was talking to himself more than he was to Keith, continuing to clear mud from his face. “This mud isn’t helping any either…”

 

Lance couldn’t help but curse to himself. He’d learned somewhere along the way that water removes body heat much faster than air. The wet mud was certainly taking its toll on the black paladin.

 

Keith leaned into Lance’s warm hand, causing Lance’s heart to jump into his throat. Keith was always hesitant when it came to physical contact. He must be really out of it - and really feeling the cold. 

 

Lance sighed, and moved to sit beside Keith, not caring about his pajamas getting dirty. He brushed his hands up and down Keith’s arms for a moment, brushing off dirt and generating friction. He was thankful that Keith’s clothing didn’t seem to be all that damp. Lance then twisted his own body, removing his jacket so he could place it over Keith’s shoulders. He finally wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him in to his own body.

 

Keith looked up at Lance with wide, dizzy eyes. Lance took in his expression for a few moments, hoping that the boy’s look of confusion wasn’t true, hoping that some more serious form of cold hadn’t set in. But he had other things to do first.

 

Lance reached round to his jacket pocket for the communicator, and opened up the channel once more.

 

“Guys, I found him _. _ ” It was a simple set of words, but it held so much weight for its listeners.

 

Mutters of relief came over the comms.  _ “We’re tracking your location, _ ” Shiro came back,  _ “We’ll be with you soon.” _

 

“Shiro?” Keith muttered sleepily. “Where’s Shiro?”

 

“He’s on his way.” Lance ran his fingers through Keith’s hair. 

 

“‘Mm cold…” Keith mumbled, burying his head into the warmth of Lance’s neck.

 

Lance hummed back in reply, not sure what else to say. He held him tighter, not wanting even the tiniest bit of heat to escape through his fingers.

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

Lance was taken aback by Keith’s whispered words.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith turned his head away from Lance, “for storming off. For making you come and get me. It’s cold… I’m cold…”

 

“It’s okay,” Lance cooed, “You’re okay.” He left it at that for a bit, trying to find the right words to say. He could tell him they all have their moments. He could tell him that everyone has different coping mechanisms. But everything he thought of fell flat in his brain. All that really mattered right now was that Keith was okay, so that’s all he said. “You’re okay,” Lance repeated.

 

Keith breathed in a deep breath, and let out a shuddery exhale, snuggling closer to Lance as he did so. “Thank you.” His voice was uncharacteristically small, but it brought they tiniest of grins to Lance’s face. 

 

The close contact was certainly unusual, but it was what was needed. And soon, the team would be here to help them back. They’d be able to tuck Keith into his cot and turn Black’s heater on high. And they’d forget about the previous day’s fights and maybe even pledge to communicate better - as if that would actually happen. But they’d be okay. They always were.


	19. Natural Disaster with Hunk and Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the awesome yellowfeverpaladin on tumblr!
> 
> "What about Natural Disaster with Hunk/Keith? <: Not enough Hunkwhump in the world."
> 
> Writing for Hunk is a little more tricky for me but eeeee I wrote a thing and I think I really like it! I ended up combining both the ideas for flash flood and acid rain in the end too~

The planet was, in a word, unhealthy. Sprawling cities made out of unrenewable materials mixed with the constant burning of fuels left the planet practically inhabitable. Trash and junk lined the abandoned streets, the thick smog in the air making it difficult to see further than 100 feet out. The inhabitants had taken to living entirely indoors, sprawling tunnels and enclosed bridges connecting the buildings. Everything in their outside world was toxic now, especially the heavy rain that was currently pounding down.

 

The team had set out to meet with the leader of the planet, due to its key location within its galaxy. They decided to take only two lions down, Keith and Hunk in Yellow, and the rest of the team in Blue. But things only got tricky from there.

 

In the low visibility of the atmosphere and storm, Hunk lost sight of the Blue lion pretty early on. He had Yellow locked on the coordinates of their destination, but even that became of no use. The harsh winds picked up the Yellow lion’s large body, blowing her way off course. Eventually, Hunk decided they’d just have to land and make their way on foot.

 

“Hunk,” Keith grumbled, “I need you to stop freaking out.”

 

Hunk shifted uncomfortably in his boots. While he hadn’t said anything yet, Keith must’ve picked up on his mannerisms - It wasn’t like Hunk had the most subtle of body languages after all. He ignored Keith’s comment though, and kept walking forward, glancing every once and a while at the radar that projected from his wrist. He tried not to let himself worry, really, he did. But with each step into the unknown, he couldn’t help but worry about his teammates, and all the possibilities as to what could go wrong with them walking in this ugly environment.

 

“Do you…” Hunk nearly decided to not bother finishing speaking. “Do you think the others made it okay?”

 

Keith turned back to look at Hunk for a moment, the mild annoyance in his face softening. “I’m sure they’re fine. Lance is a good pilot after all. We just got pulled off course because Yellow’s so big.”

 

Hunk nodded to himself, trying to accept Keith’s words, and kept walking, using the surprise of Keith complementing Lance as something to pull him out of his head. 

 

They continued on in silence for a while, battling against the weather. The strong winds and rain nearly knocked Keith’s smaller frame over a few times, and Hunk made sure to never be out of his arm’s reach. He couldn’t have his teammate blowing away in the wind.

 

“Hunk?” Keith muttered a little while later. There was something about his tone that Hunk couldn’t place. “Do you hear that?”

 

Hunk paused in his tracks, listening. As he concentrated, the sound of distant rumbling filled his ears. 

 

It quickly turned into the sound of rushing water. And it was loud.

 

“Keith! Grab onto something!” Was what instinct made Hunk yell, but upon a quick glance around, there was nothing there to hold onto. 

 

Before Keith even knew what was happening, water rushed around his body, picking him up and violently pulling him away. His vision flashed in and out at the madness of it all, until he felt his head slam into something, pulling his helmet off. He blacked out.

 

* * *

 

“Keith?”

 

Keith blinked his eyes open to find Hunk hovering over him. 

 

“Oh thank quiznack you’re alright.”

 

Keith felt a hand move against his forehead, and he winced away.

 

“I don’t think you were out for more than a minute, but,” Hunk rambled on, “You scared me man. And you’ve got a uh… nasty cut. I’m hoping it’s not as bad as it looks but…”

 

“Hunk.” Keith groaned. “Can you shut up for a moment?”

 

“Oh. Sorry.” Hunk quieted down.

 

With Hunk pointing out the cut, Keith’s awareness of the pain in his head grew. But it wasn’t what he expected from a normal head injury. It burned like something else. He continued to focus in on his injury as he regained his senses, and began to feel something else. The skin on his face and scalp badly stung, especially where his sodden bangs were slick against his forehead. He reached up to push his hair off of his face when he made the connection.

 

“Hey, Hunk?” Keith asked, “Where’s my helmet?”

 

Hunk looked like his stomach just dropped into his feet. He was starting to put together the dots. “I think you lost it in the flash flood…” Hunk gulped. “Is the rain…?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith was slow in his word choice. “It kinda… burns.”

 

Hunk froze for a moment, before speaking a single word under his breath. “Shit.”

 

Without any cue that Hunk was going to continue, Keith piqued up instead. “We should keep going,” He started to stand, “Get out of this weather.” But a hand on his shoulder stopped him mid motion.

 

“Not like that you aren’t.”

 

“Hunk?”

 

Keith looked up at Hunk confused, until he realized what he was doing. Hunk had pulled off his helmet, and had turned it around to give it to Keith. 

 

“Wha- Hunk, no.” He tried to push it away as Hunk firmly placed it over his head. “You need it.” Keith wanted to fight it off, but knew he’d be no match for Hunk’s superior raw strength. 

 

“Keith.” Hunk looked straight into Keith’s eyes as he held his hands on his shoulders. “If the rain were to make your wound worse… I’d never forgive myself. I’ll be fine. It can’t be that bad anyways.” Hunk removed his hands, and held one out to help Keith up. “C’mon. Lets get going.”

 

Keith wanted to send out some kind of retort, but the words disappeared from his tongue. Hunk cared for his teammates almost to a fault. As Keith felt the burning on his skin begin to subside due to now wearing the helmet, all he could do was mutter a simple “Thank you.”

 

Hunk turned away, visibly distracting himself by fidgeting with his radar as he walked. Keith continuously glanced over at him, his concern growing each time he saw his friend’s jaw clench, or his forehead wrinkle up. 

 

Hunk was in pain. His face grew tinged with red, an angry rash forming from the dangerous rain. 

 

“Hunk…” Keith ventured.

 

“I’m fine.” Hunk snapped back. His face quickly softened though, regretful of his small outburst. “Sorry. I’m fine. Really.”

 

“We’re nearly there.” Keith’s voice was hushed, as soothing as he could make it.

 

Hunk hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything more.

 

They were getting close now. Hunk had reached back and grabbed Keith’s hand, desperate for some comfort and relief from the pain. While Keith had been confused and a little uncomfortable at first, he gently squeezed back. 

 

It was all he could do for him right now, beyond forcing the helmet back onto his head. And, as Keith had suggested it multiple times now, Hunk was clearly not having it. We refused to accept the helmet back.

 

As they trudged on, Keith thought he saw some movement through the smog. As they got closer, a figure became clear, suddenly moving quickly towards them.

 

“Keith! Hunk!”

 

Both paladins perked up immediately, recognizing the voice.

 

It was Shiro.

 

* * *

 

Hunk winced as the cool cloth came in contact with his face. 

 

“Hey,” Keith murmured as he pulled the cloth away for a moment, waiting for Hunk’s permission to continue.

 

Hunk hesitated for a bit, but eventually gave a tiny nod, allowing Keith to keep on cleaning the dirty rain from his face.

 

Shiro had left them sitting in what appeared to be some kind of small lobby, as he went to go find some better medical help, both for Hunk’s burns and Keith’s cut. Keith sat with Hunk, doing what he could with what he could find to ease the stinging in Hunk’s skin. To an unknowing outsider, it might look like Hunk just had a sunburn. They both knew it was much worse than that though. Keith did half wonder if aloe would help, though, and if any altean equivalents existed.

 

Hunk made a noise that was half groan, half hiccup, as Keith wiped the cloth along his hair line. 

 

“‘You doing alright?”

 

Hunk wasn’t sure of his answer. “I guess.”

 

Keith gave a small smile in reply, and continued working, acting gentler than Hunk had ever experienced before.

 

“Thank you,” Hunk finally had the courage to say.

 

Keith glanced up, pausing what he was doing. “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?”

 

“Keith, I’ve told you, I’m okay- ah!” Hunk jerked back as Keith accidentally irritated his skin.

 

Keith shushed away his pain before trying to hold back a small snicker. Hunk was an awful liar.

 

“You better be okay,” Keith suddenly beamed at Hunk, taking him by surprise, “‘cause I don’t know what we’d do without you.”


End file.
